Life through the Looking Glass
by JerichoGirl
Summary: Sometimes life starts after death.Two boys bound for eternity, hidden behind their masks,bearing their sentences,mourning their losses,seperated but not torn apart will reunite to save their newfound peace from crumbling. NOT slash.
1. Into the Enchanted Darkness

**Code Geass does not belong to me; if it did Lelouch would be mine.**

**Into the Enchanted Darkness**

_What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset. –Crowfoot*_

* * *

Diminishing sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the palace's expansive library casting shadows between the innumerable bookshelves. Lelouch vi Britannia 99th Emperor of Britannia sat at a table next to one of the sizeable windows, reading by sunlight and savoring his solitude. Since his victory at the Sword of Damocles he'd been reading books that he never cared to pick up during his stint as Zero leader of the Black Knights. It had started with Alice in Wonderland, a book he'd considered too whimsical for his tastes, but after reading it he found himself wishing he could escape into world where an overdose of growth liquid was his biggest concern. Of course he'd known that such an idea was wishful thinking. It was only a book after all.

Afterwards he'd read Moby Dick one of his favorites, a book that did not spout metaphysical nonsense at him whenever he dared to crack it open. He could relate to Captain Ahab, a man willing to perform whatever dastardly deed he had to in his dogged pursuit to slay the object of his revenge. Getting revenge on his father for abandoning them as political tools in a foreign land and creating a world gentle enough for Nunnally had been his white whale, and now that goal was upon the threshold of its realization. The book that currently lay splayed before him was a compilation of Edgar Allen Poe's, the Master of Macabre as he'd heard it coined, greatest works. Usually he would not bother to read the works of a madman, but tonight he was in a dark mood and thus felt like shrouding himself in the gloom of gothic narratives. Presently, he was reading The _Cask of Amontillado_.

Moments ticked by until the sunlight was no more and only the darkness of night enveloped him. Still, Lelouch sat in the chair brow furrowed, mouth set in a frown, eyes directed at the book. Though his lavender gaze was upon the book they remained unfocused, his mind not bothering to process the letters before him into words as he reflected upon his life course. Only when the grand chandelier hanging in the center of the library's ceiling came on did he emerge from his brooding. He switched his attention to the person in the room, a kitchen maid. She was here to tell him that dinner was ready no doubt.

She curtseyed politely to the young king and spoke in a humble voice, "dinner is ready Your Majesty."

"On the terrace of my chambers I assume." He flipped a page and rested his chin on his wrist, maintaining his air of superiority.

"Yes Your Majesty," she replied, clasping her hands in front of herself in a gesture of humility.

He closed the book and gracefully rose to his feet, disregarding her on his way out of the room. He strode down extravagantly decorated corridors and winding staircases until he reached his room. He turned the golden handles of the door and entered, ignoring the lavish décor of his chambers as he strutted to the exquisite flagstone veranda. On the balcony was a table set with all of his favorite foods (including desserts), the best of the palace's silverware, and the choicest of wine (Lafite Rothschild 1949 Red Bordeaux). Ever since he'd formulated Zero Requiem he'd been taking his dinner alone on the terrace, because it seemed that he only found a shred of solace in seclusion.

He pulled back a chair and sat down gracefully. Instead of digging into the decadent delicacies spread before him, he sent his gaze heavenward. It was a clear night. The stars hanging in the dense night sky seemed to shine brighter tonight as if they'd drawn closer to the Earth congregating themselves together as spectators of his, the boy who declared he would destroy the juggernaut known as Britannia and change the world, misery and death. He smirked grimly. The sound of the veranda doors sliding open awakened him from his wandering thoughts. He cut his eyes to the figure striding to the table. Suzaku Kururugi, another of his partners in the Zero Requiem. "Ah, Suzaku. Come, join me for my last supper." He gestured to the seat opposite him, placing his light-hearted mask into place.

The knight frowned at those words but did not sit. "Why did you ask me to do this?"

Lelouch used a corkscrew to remove the top from the bottle and proceeded to pour two glasses of red wine, taking a relaxed sup from one of the goblets. "Hm?"

Suzaku scowled at the young man seated at the table looking at him with a dispassionate countenance. "Why did you ask me to kill you? I can't do it!" He couldn't- he couldn't murder his dearest childhood friend. Because he didn't want to see those incredible amethyst eyes glaze over and succumb to death.

"Nonsense," he stated coolly. "Think about Euphy and I'm sure you'll find the act much easier to perform." He inserted a spoonful of vichyssoise into his mouth and savored the creaminess embracing his palate, watching the other male like a hawk. A pang shot through him when he perceived the other's desperate countenance. He hated when Suzaku looked at him with that face, but he would ignore it, because if he allowed himself to continue to gaze upon his knight's expression those emerald eyes would eventually sway him.

Suzaku clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. The mention of her name did not incur such wrath and animosity towards Lelouch as it once had, because deep down he knew that he'd forgiven his friend for it. "Why don't we just run away Lelouch?"

He raised a delicate eyebrow, knowing that now was not the time to be joking but unable to help himself he spoke, "together?"

The implied tone in his voice caused the other's cheeks to dust pink but didn't deter him. "We could hop on the first train out of here." He placed a hand on the chair's top, clenching it until his nails dug into its upholstery.

Lelouch fixed a piercing gaze upon his knight. "And where would you have us go?"

The question caught him off guard; he'd expected him to flat out shoot the suggestion down with the utmost forthrightness not ask that question. "The countryside. We could live together… a-as roommates of course and--." The clang of Lelouch's fork falling loudly against his plate interrupted his train of thought.

"The world hates me Suzaku," he said ruefully. "Running away would not appease the masses." He'd went to visit Nunnally the previous night and the way she'd looked at him, with such profound disbelief and heartbreak, that he'd felt his own heart crumble and turn to dust. No, he could not live if she no longer gave him that smile that lit up his world.

"But why do I have to kill you!"

"Because this is the way it has to be! I must die in order to create the better world. That is the Zero Requiem!" He slammed a fist down on the table for emphasis. "The very same plan that we agreed to, that _you_ promised to through with," he rumbled authoritatively, violet eyes boring mercilessly into emerald. "You are not breaking your word to your emperor are you, Knight of Zero?" He knew the brown haired boy; he was honest and honorable, considering his word his bond.

Suzaku's shoulders sagged. There was no talking his friend out of this. It was going to be done and he would see it fulfilled to the bitter end. "No Your Majesty." He sat down across from the teenage emperor and picked up the second glass of wine, taking a deep swig. "I guess if anyone's going to kill you it going to me," he joked.

A small smile faintly rolled over Lelouch's lips at his knight's attempt at a jest, but he continued to eat.

Suzaku supposed he would start dinner off with the miso soup and ladled some into his bowl. "You keep eating like this Lulu and you're gonna lose that girlish figure."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed at his companion. "Like hell I would. And besides it's the eve of my demise, I _should_ have a feast fit for a king."

Tension as thick as pea soup and a deafening silence surrounded them. Then after a few moments, Suzaku broke the strained silence. "How can you be so calm about dying tomorrow?"

Lelouch chewed a little longer than usual then took a slow drink of his wine. He didn't want to answer the question, not at the moment, for fear his voice would reveal his true emotions. He eyed his knight, sliding his gaze over the chestnut locks and melancholy emerald orbs. Well, he was going to die tomorrow, now seemed as good a time as any to reveal half of the truth. "There will be no place in the peaceful new world for a monster like me." Okay, he lied. Truth was, that with every life taken because of him, every time he deceived his loved ones, every mask he'd worn, and every time those that he'd once thought more than acquaintances glared at him with blatant hatred he'd died a little. Now, he'd had so many dyings already, that it didn't matter that tomorrow would be his real death, because there was nothing left of him to salvage.

Suzaku's face softened and he looked down at the remnants of his miso soup. There was nothing he knew to say that would help Lelouch feel better. It was impossible to comfort him. He was going to die tomorrow. Suzaku had only felt so helpless in his life a few times and this was at the top of his list. Agony pierced him when he saw the tormented expression fluttering over the emperor's face. "Lelouch…" The emotions swirling in those violet eyes when they rose to him impaled his heart and made him rethink what he was going to say. "I didn't know sukiyaki was one of your favorite dishes."

Lelouch's features instantly lightened. "A lot of things from Japan rubbed off on me," he replied, keeping an eye on Suzaku to make sure he didn't consume all of the sukiyaki.

"Like what?" Suzaku queried a half-smile on his face.

"Like the food you idiot," he snapped before daintily inserting a morsel of filet mignon into his mouth.

He grinned, pleased to see his dear friend back to his snappish self. "Or a certain someone?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Lelouch's cheeks flushed but he scowled, thinking of how silly Suzaku looked when he waggled his eyebrows. "I should have never invited you to dine with me," he groused.

Suzaku sucked up a mouthful of noodles. "But you did," he pointed out.

He sighed heavily. "A mistake on my part."

They conversed light-heartedly as they consumed the feast before them, merrily laughing together occasionally. After they finished their meal and Lelouch managed to wolf down a slice of strawberry flan even after all the food he'd managed to put away at dinner, they decided to sit on the balcony's railing and stargaze.

Lelouch looked up into the vastness of the night sky and at the celestial luminaries twinkling in its expansiveness. He chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, I was just thinking about how pointless it is for man to think so highly of themselves. Compare us to the sky and we're nothing but bubbles floating aimlessly upon the wind for but a moment until we disappear, melting into the stream of time like we never existed. At least that's how it goes for those of us that don't have a Code." He laughed grimly. "Why strive so hard for our goals when in the end we leave everything behind? It's like striving after the wind, it's vanity at its most pristine."

Suzaku turned his attention to the raven-haired boy sitting next to him. "Life is not empty. Striving after what we want is not vanity. It's the only way we can make life meaningful. And you're wrong to say something like that, no, you're wrong to even think that."

Lelouch frowned, his gaze hardening to the knight. "This from the guy that _wants _to die."

Suzaku pinched his lips, narrowing his eyes at the teenager next to him. "Because you—!" He broke off his sentence when Lelouch turned away, hanging his head so that his dark bangs concealed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was raw and thick with tears.

"Suzaku?" He said softly. "Do you think that there will be anyone in this world that won't remember me as a monster, as the Devil Emperor?" He didn't truly care about the world, but his question was actually about Nunnally. Right now his beloved sister, the person he'd broken his soul for thought him a cold-hearted fiend. But perhaps it was the best, in lieu of what was to take place tomorrow.

Suzaku couldn't see Lelouch's eyes, but he _could_ see the tears cascading from them down his pale cheeks. He wouldn't let Lelouch go to his grave thinking that everyone in the world hated him, that no matter where he turned there would be nothing but unyielding hatred. Gently he placed a hand on his friend's slender shoulders. "If everyone else sees you that way Lelouch, know that I don't."

Lelouch looked at him with tear-filled eyes and smiled, silently thanking him.

Suzaku smiled and drew him into a warm embrace, allowing him to weep in his arms.

* * *

Lelouch stood atop the float upon which he'd been seated upon his lavish throne, watching as Suzaku clothed as Zero sprinted towards him, effortlessly dodging the barrage of Knightmare gunfire. His eyes fell to the double-edged sword in his knight's hand. There it was the instrument that would end his life. No, that was not right. Suzaku was the instrument, he had always been. If he were going to die he'd always wanted it to be at Suzaku's hand not some random faceless enemy. Suzaku was the instrument; the sword was merely a tool.

He smirked as Suzaku easily bypassed Jeremiah's mock assault, vaulting from his shoulder to land on the float. Everything began to move in slow motion to Lelouch when Zero reached the zenith of the float, standing directly in front of him in the same disguise he'd worn for so long as leader of the Black Knights. He drew his gun and yelled out "you cretin!!" as planned.

Zero knocked the gun easily from his hand and neared him, sword ready to attack.

He stepped back, softly smirking. This was it, his final moments were at hand, but he was not afraid, not anymore. _He who dies a thousand deaths meets the final hour with the calmness of one who approaches a well-mannered door #. _At the moment he could not remember where he'd read or heard that quote, but he clung to it, because he didn't want to die and leave Nunnally in this world. He knew, though, that it had to be this way in order for the world to have a better future. There would be no place for him in this world that detested his very existence. He had to be erased. It pained him to no end, but he accepted his fate. He accepted his death.

Suzaku moved forward and with one swift move impaled the emperor, feeling the blade pierce muscle and vital organs. "L-Lelouch," was all he could say as tears spilled from his eyes and flowed down his face. His heart cracked when Lelouch fell limply against him, life starting to desert his body to death. At that moment Lelouch started to speak but his words were just background noises floating in his subconsciousness to him. All he was aware of was the terrible vibrations Lelouch's trembling caused to ripple down the sword, the potent odor of blood and approaching death, the weight of Lelouch skewered upon his weapon, and the single crimson-stained hand that rose to touch his mask. It was too much, he had to get away. "I accept that Geass," he said graciously, his brain finally processing what the fatally wounded young man had been saying. He withdrew the sword from his friend's broken body and drew away.

He watched, horrified, as Lelouch lurched forward, took a step, tumbled head over heels once, and slid down the ramp, leaving a trail of smeared crimson in his wake. The doors from one of the nearby buildings flanking the street burst open and he heard Cornelia shout something about the demon emperor being dead.

The crowd began to cheer, chanting "Zero! Zero! Zero!"

Bile rose into his throat as the crowd cheered their acclamations for the masked man that had assassinated their loathed emperor. They were celebrating the death of a boy that had sacrificed his soul and transformed himself into a monster so that the world could progress to a better future and it nauseated him. Amidst the throngs cheering his name and the commotion of Jeremiah and his men retreating all he heard were the agonizing wails of Nunnally as she mourned her beloved brother's death.

* * *

Lelouch moaned as he began regaining consciousness. His brow furrowed when he realized that he was floating, surrounded by warmth that wrapped him in a snug cocoon and seemed to pervade his very nerve endings filling him with a contentment that he had forgotten. He cracked open an eye, closing it instantly when blinding radiance stabbed into his retina. What the hell? Again he tried, opting to open them bit by bit instead of all at once so that they could get used to the light. When his eyes were finally completely open what he saw amazed him. He was floating in a vast nothingness of brilliant white light. He switched his gaze in all directions but found nothing but blinding, warm luminosity spanning as far as his eye could see.

He sat up, finding that he could float upright if he wanted. Where was he? He thought he would go to the other place when he died, not a place filled with light and warmth that sent a sparkling beam into his heart. Wait. Was this all that was left of C's World? Was this endless vacuum of enveloping light all that was left of the collective unconsciousness that he'd destroyed in his ardor hardly two months ago? Or was this a state of limbo? He had done so many unspeakable things in his relentless pursuit of his goal but had actually succeeded in creating a peaceful world where negotiations would take place around a table and not with Knightmares and the sacrifice of human lives. Was that it? Was he here because although he had performed many wrongdoings he had changed a world headed down the road to self-destruction for the better, and thus whatever deities were in charge were deliberating on his final fate. How long would he be here? Hours, days, years, or centuries? How could he tell how long he'd been here, there were no vessels for him to tell time. Maybe time didn't even exist in this plane of reality.

"Lelouch… Lelouch," an ethereal voice that seemed to come from all around him called.

He whirled around in the boundless void, searching for the owner of the voice. "Who are you?! Why am I here?!" He demanded.

"The first question does not matter, dear child. But the latter question shall be answered. You are here because you Lelouch vi Britannia are not allowed to see death. Not now at least."

"What! What do you mean I am not allowed to die?"

"Are you not happy to be given a second chance?"

"Hell no! I did what I set out to do, which most people don't achieve in their entire lifetime. I deserved my death." He continued to search the luminous nothingness seeking to speak to the owner of the voice face-to-face, even though he could see no being, physical or otherwise, in sight. The voice grew quiet, causing him to think that at any moment he'd just fade into oblivion or be struck by lightning for his harsh tone.

"So this is about penance. You did so many wicked things in your life that you feel that you deserve death, because to you it is redemption or salvation for your tortured soul. To you only in death can you find the inner peace that you could never attain during life."

He did not speak; instead he merely gazed into the radiance to see what the voice would say next.

"So you wish to die, no _you_ _think _you deserve death?"

He scowled when he detected the condescension in the tone. "Yes."

"But dear child, you never lived," Voice said, obvious laughter in its tone.

"I did live!" He bellowed, growing increasingly vexed at the voice that felt that it was fit to decide his fate.

"No," Voice replied calmly. "You merely drifted along in a sea of agonizing pain."

Lelouch glared intensely into the brilliance encompassing him and tilted his chin up in defiance. "The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain,"^ he retorted.

"Spare me your quotations child. You did not live, you never allowed it. You were a mere ghost hiding behind the masks of Lelouch vi Britannia, Lelouch Lamperouge, Zero leader of the Black Knights, ever-changing, ever-drifting to one place or another, lost in the haze of perfunctory survival."

"That's not true!" He could not go back there, there was no place left for him in the world anymore. He had achieved his goal; there was no reason to live. Death was his only option, no, death was his preferred option.

Voice continued to speak, not listening to him in the least. "You existed, though no one will ever know it, for the world, to destroy the old world that was drowning in the blood of its inhabitants and recreate it into a better one. You lived your life as a phantom, dear child. And someone that performed such an honorable deed at the expense of scarring his own soul deserves a second chance."

"No! You can't do this! The world hates me. I won't even be able to go outside without someone trying to murder me!" He gazed into the brilliance, his countenance twisted in smoldering anger. "You will condemn me to a life of utter and unending solitude!"

"Perhaps, but you will have a new start. If you allow it, maybe the real Lelouch can finally be able to live his life without a mask."

He was frustrated beyond belief. Here he had accepted death and now he was being given a second chance in a world that considered him the quintessence of evil. This was not fair, but then again… "How will I live?"

"You're an intelligent child you will figure it out," Voice replied indifferently.

He growled angrily opting not to think profane words at Voice just in case it condemned him to the 'bad place'. But at least he'd be dead right? "But I don't want to--!"

"Bye now."

"Wait noooo!" He felt himself falling, plummeting at blurring speed, until finally… He regained consciousness, opting to keep his eyes closed when he saw the brilliant light from beneath his eyelids. Instant torturous pain plowed into him and he squirmed. Shit. He wished he was still floating in that damned void. The bed sank from the weight of someone and a cold towel was placed on his forehead.

"Welcome back," he heard a voice say, the same voice that had spoken to him in the luminous void.

His eyes shot open, reflexively squinting from the bright sunlight illuminating the small room in which he lay, and fell upon a beautiful woman of obvious Indian descent with golden brown hair and thoughtful hazel orbs. "Wh—" his voice cracked and died in his throat.

She patted his head dry and smiled. "You were talking during your fever. So I had a whole conversation with you. I think you thought I was God," she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. She failed to tell him that she'd only called his name and after that reamained quiet.

What? So the so-called limbo and conversation with an omnipotent being he'd had was some sort of fever-induced dream? Friggin great. He swallowed the nauseating film covering his tongue which felt like sandpaper. Why did his mouth feel like cotton? And just how bloody long had he been out? "So I didn't die."

"More or less…no." She felt his head, checking for a fever and then placed another cold towel upon his forehead.

Bloody hell. "B-but the wound…" He slid his parched tongue over dry lips. "It was fatal."

"Shame on you Lelouch."

He didn't have to see the person to know the owner of that voice, because it was a person that at been at his side constantly for such a long while. Soon a woman with a slight frame, large amber eyes, and a crop of green hair entered his vision. "C.C." He said softly.

She gave a faint smile. "You should know by now that there are other forces in this world aside from Geass. This is Padma, she is a healer."

Lelouch glowered at C.C. "I'm wounded not ignorant. Suzaku missed didn't he."

C.C. stared at him with slight vexation. "I was trying to save you the embarrassment, but if you must know, yes, he did miss, although you did lose a lot of blood and it's still a wonder how you even survived."

Lelouch groaned more from the pain when he clenched his fist. "Idiot!" He winced when his wound reminded him of its presence. How the hell could that idiot miss his heart? It wasn't exactly a small target. He had been in the Britannian military for crying out loud! He was supposed to know how to use a damned sword.

Padma wringed out the towel and touched his head again, finding that his fever was completely gone this time. "Perhaps the Creator stayed his hand, either way it's a second chance for you."

He laid a knife-edged glare upon her.

She inadvertently let out a tiny squeak and stood quickly. "How about lunch, maybe a bowl of Mulligatawny Soup and spiced tea for you Lelouch and chicken curry and ginger ale for us?" She didn't wait for them to answer. "Good. Okay, be back in a jiff." She scurried from the room and made her way to the kitchen at the front of her modest house.

Lelouch put a hand on over his face in frustration. The plan was for him to die, not almost die then be condemned to life of confinement and solitude. "Fate is a cruel witch."

C.C. flopped down on the bed and looked at the pale man lying propped up on the large white pillows, a flimsy white sheet and coverlet concealing him. "I thought you would have learned that lesson by now dear Lelouch." She swiped a through his bangs, disturbing the strands of hair plastered to his forehead from perspiration. "I thought you'd be happy to be alive and have a second chance at life. You'd seemed so sad when you formulated your plan."

He heaved a sigh, wincing when he moved to touch her hand.

"Is it because you had finally accepted death that now that it has been denied, you feel somehow cheated?"

He smirked. "You know me so well C.C." He said an acid bite to his tone. He didn't care about the fact that he was alive and not dead. What really bothered him was that because he was alive and was currently number one on the World's Most Hated list he would have to live in disguise. Being alive meant that he would have to masquerade as someone else just to go out in public, which meant that he would again be living his life behind a mask.

She also knew when he was hiding behind one of his many facades to avoid revealing his true emotions (which he was doing at this very moment). "Or is it the fact that you can't stand the idea of living behind a mask for the rest of your life?"

He frowned at her. "Is ripping a man's soul in two a part of your powers as well, immortal witch or is it just for fun?"

C.C. smiled sardonically. "You should know the answer to that question."

He glowered at her, grimacing when he sat up, his frail body trembling. "And you were there the entire time watching me, helping me to tear at my own soul until its remnants became lost in the depths of my own sin so you could further your own agenda. A true partner in crime."

She trailed her fingers lightly to his chest placing a hand on the barely visible scar. Lelouch, her dear Lelouch had almost left this world and she'd almost been too late to save him. "Yes," she said softly, lifting her hand from the scar on his chest. She pulled the coverlet from him, figuring he would pass out from the heat if she didn't.

Sharp, unbearable pain pierced him and travelled through him in shockwaves, its epicenter the injury that Suzaku had given him. He clutched his chest, daring not to pant for every deep breath only increased the torture.

C.C. stood elegantly and strode to the stand next to his bed, opening the drawer and taking out a small square pouch. She pulled the patch from the adhesive tape and placed it directly on the thin strip scarring his chest. He growled in agony for a few seconds more, before he became still and drifted off to sleep. She sat down on his bedside and placed a hand on his. "I never thought that I would ever regret finding the one person that could fulfill the contract," she said quietly. "But I do and I cannot condemn you to immortality. I cannot condemn you to the same hell that I inhabit, the same hell that those with the power of the king must reside in all their long life." She hung her head. "This is why we must soon go our separate ways." She leaned over and gently kissed his forehead, gazing upon his handsome face again. She would help him find the right disguise for himself and make sure that he had the necessities before she left, but after that she could no longer have contact with him, for fear she would actually begin to want that which people like her were never blessed to have: love.

* * *

Suzaku stood in the mirror in full Zero garb gazing at himself. It had been two months since Lelouch's death, since he'd assassinated the one person that seemed to understand him better than any other. He looked down at the helmet he held in his hands, the same helmet that he'd been wearing for two months out in public. Suzaku Kururugi had died the day the Lancelot Albion exploded on the Sword of Damocles. Now, the Japanese boy was gone, engulfed in the shadow of Zero the world's avenging angel, the slayer of the demon emperor, the hero of justice. He frowned and continued to examine his face in the mirror trailing over the chestnut locks, the viridian eyes staring back at him, and the tanned skin. Unconsciously he memorized his features which he did every time he left his home (it was bordering on the ritualistic). He didn't know why he did it, he just did… Maybe it was because whenever he saw a reflection (not that he was conceited or anything) instead of emerald green eyes and chestnut hair he saw nothing but Zero's blank faceless mask.

He thought about Lelouch and a pain shot through his core. He remembered clearly what happened after he'd killed Lelouch. After he was finally able to escape unnoticed from the crowd of people dancing amidst the confetti flittering to the ground, he'd ran to the nearest alleyway and vomited until his knees quaked. First he'd killed his father, then members of his own race, and now Lelouch had fallen at his hands. Was that the only reason he existed? To kill those that gained his affection? This was why Lelouch bequeathed him the title of Zero, for it was a punishment in its own way. The Geass that Lelouch had laid upon him made him unable to die no matter how badly he wanted was his sentence, to live the rest of his life for the masses sacrificing his own desires for theirs. It was his own burden to bear for the blood that stained his hands. It was atonement for his sins.

He turned when someone knocked on the door. "Sir Zero, the Empress requests your presence."

"I will be there shortly," he replied, lowering the pitch of his voice so that it was unrecognizable.

"Yes sir. I will inform Her Majesty that you are on your way."

He sighed when he heard the click of the man's shoes as he strode away and gave his reflection one more look. _Well Lelouch, you achieved your goal. Nunnally has been crowned empress and the world is on the road to a better future. I hope you're happy wherever you are, _he thought, feeling a bit wistful when a vivid image of his raven-haired friend rose into his mind. He really missed Lelouch. Swiping a hand through his chestnut tresses, he put on Zero's helmet, concealing his face behind the featureless mask.

* * *

Lelouch sat on the windowsill staring out at the Indian jungle, brow knitted, a hand propping up his chin, legs bent. Ever since he'd awakened almost two months he'd been pondering his current situation. He realized that he'd been given a second chance and that despite himself he felt he should take this opportunity. It broke his heart that he would never be able to contact or talk to Nunnally or the others that had lived in his inner circle, but--.

"Not thinking of killing yourself are you?" C.C. asked, appearing in the room without a warning (or a knock on the door which had been closed by the way).

Lelouch scowled at her, but his voice had a slight playful hint to it when he spoke, "That's right, don't bother to knock it's not like I want to be alone or anything. And of course I'm not thinking about killing myself. My death was essential for the Zero Requiem to become realized, killing myself now would be meaningless."

"So you've made your choice?" She strode forward, leaning against the wall indifferently. Her amber eyes trailed over him briefly and she wondered what the stirring was in her heart.

He was silent for a moment before he answered. "Yes. But I am not staying here. This heat is insufferable, the bed is backbreaking, and the mosquito to human ratio is considerably disproportionate," he complained grumpily. However he decided to omit 'constant indigestion and occasional diarrhea from ingesting flaming hot curry twice a day for almost sixty days' to his list of complaints.

C.C. tilted her head to the side, staring at him blankly, and rubbed her shoulder with a hand. "You will never be able to see Nunnally again…" She peered at him sharply. "Can you deal with that?"

He maintained his gaze out of the window. Nunnally was his entire reason for living, not being able to talk to her, see her smile, or watch those beautiful eyes light up when she was happy gnawed at him, but it had to be this way. "I--."

C.C. decided to interrupt him. "I'm sure she'll be on television a lot now, so you will at least be able to see her. Communication with her otherwise…" Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'm sure a resourceful man like you can figure out something." She sat down on the windowsill. "I know some people and I'll make sure you're moved in and your new identity is secure before…" She trailed off when she saw the expression in his eyes.

He controlled the urge to gasp and maintained his composure. "So, you're leaving as well?" He crossed his legs, folded his arms, and scowled at her, covering his feelings of abandonment with cynicism. "I'm not surprised."

She looked down at the tiny hands clasped in her lap and stared ahead.

He didn't want her to leave. He didn't want the last person that connected him to the remains of his old life to go away. "Don't you want to fulfill our contract so your wish can be granted?"

She shook her head firmly, causing her loose olive green hair to sway from side-to-side, and met his gaze with cool indifference. "I have decided to void our contract Lelouch." She rose to her feet, turning her back to him, and decided for the first time that she should at least try to be truthful with her dearest Lelouch. "In all my long life I have never met a man like you. That is why… I must leave." She took a step but stopped when Lelouch, who had risen along with her, grasped her wrist.

"C.C. I don't understand."

She swallowed, schooling her features and voice until they had fallen back into their usual stolidness. "You have walked a broken path your entire life Lelouch, existing as a shattered soul amongst the gray." Her eyes rose to his, wavering when those piercing violet orbs stabbed into them. She turned to him, using her free hand to touch the hand that held her wrist. "This is why I cannot give you my Code. Now that you have a new lease on life I will not damn you to the overwhelming loneliness of immortality."

He couldn't control the shock that obviously rippled over his face. He didn't think that she care enough about him to sacrifice her own desires to protect him. "C.C…" He guided her close, feathering a hand over her olive green locks.

"Are you sure you can live the rest of your life disguised as a person that doesn't really exist?"

"I've lived my entire life in a mask it should not be any different than my old life." He bent his head, staring tenderly at those cherry lips that beckoned him.

C.C. tilted her head back, softly brushing her lips across his chin, violet eyes drawing her in like a moth to the flame. "Lelouch, promise me that you will allow yourself to not just exist but to live."

He gave a soft smile, locking his eyes with hers. "Okay." Even as his lips neared hers he knew that he'd lied. A soul as damaged as his own with the deaths of thousands laying stagnant with his conscience could never truly live, but he could pretend. He closed his eyes and joined his mouth to hers.

* * *

**A.N.: Yay!!! This is my first Code Geass fic so hopefully everyone is in character. This fic is the product of an idea that has been tickling my muse's fancy for quite some time, and I don't exactly know where this is going, but it's going somewhere. I hope you enjoy and please R&R. Constructive criticism is welcomed but NO FLAMES. **

**XOXO**

***Crowfoot was a Blackfoot warrior and orator.**

**#A quote by Heywood Brown.**

**^A quote by Lord Byron.**


	2. The Breathing Dead

**I do not own Code Geass, if I did, Lelouch and Suzaku would be mine.**

**The Breathing Dead**

"_Little do men perceive what solitude is and how far it extendeth; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling where there is no love." -Francis Bacon_

"_My surface may be smooth, but my surface is my mask ever-varying ever-concealing, beneath lies no complacence, beneath lies confusion and fear, and aloness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant, sophisticated façade to help me pretend. To shield me from the glance that knows."-Excerpt from Charles C. Finn's poem Please Hear What I'm not Saying (Masks)_

* * *

It was a cloudless night, the stars twinkling brightly in the bluish-black sky. A crisp breeze blew by, causing the cape of the darkly clad figure striding down the walkway to flutter. He descended into a separate building of the newly built Pendragon Palace and down dimly lit corridors. As he neared his destination light spilled into the dim hallway, illuminating the way and eclipsing whatever brightness the torches emitted. He was going to the Pool of Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory in Greek mythology, a place where the names of those that had fallen during the power struggle for world domination were written on candles and allowed to float upon the water. It was a ceremony that he endured every night as a silent tribute to those whose sacrifices would not be forgotten.

An automatic smile spread across his lips when he saw the girl sitting in her wheelchair, the light brown curls falling around her thin shoulders giving her the appearance of an angel. He gave a gracious bow. "Good evening Your Majesty."

She smiled kindly at him. "Sir Zero. Won't you please join me?" She asked in that wonderfully lilting voice, sapphire eyes twinkling noticeably. She knew who was behind that mask. Suzaku Kururugi. He had become her closest ally during her coronation as empress when the newfound peace had been in its infancy, and now he was her rock, her most trusted confidant and dearest friend. She looked down at the two unlit candles in her hands, trailing a finger over the letters painted neatly into one of the two. On the side of one candle was the name Euphy while the other was blank.

They met each other each night to light the candles of Euphy and Lelouch in remembrance of the two people that had held their hearts in their palms. They had to do it in secret because suspicion would arise if they were seen lighting a candle for the Demon Emperor. If Suzaku was exposed, he would most definitely suffer a public execution or a private assassination. Therefore, when the inhabitants of the palace were asleep they would slip from their chambers and convene here in secret.

Cautiously he removed his mask, swiping a hand through his chestnut hair, and tucked it under his shoulder. He smiled and walked to her, fishing a Zippo from the inner pocket of his shirt. "I would love to."

She handed him the nameless candle, dipped the small brush into the tiny inkwell in her lap, and proffered it to him. "It's your turn to help Lelouch along."

He smiled, swallowing a lump in his throat, and wrote 'Lelouch' on the surface of the candle. _You were never truly a monster Lelouch, just a boy driven to change the world_. With a sad sigh, he lit the candle in his hand, then the one Nunnally held, and placed them both into the faintly lapping water. Quietly he watched as the two candles drifted along, joining the numerous burning candles some with names others blank (in recognition of those nameless lives that were extinguished.). He stared at the flickering lights that united as one chorus of light luminously brightening the room, his mind drifting to those that had been erased from his life by war.

"I miss them," she whispered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I miss Lelouch."

He swallowed thickly, schooling his features so they didn't show his anguish. "So do I." He took her tiny hand in his and held it tightly in gesture of comfort. "But it was what he wanted."

She nodded, sapphire eyes shimmering with unshed tears. After they stared at the radiance floating upon the water (two candles in particular) she chuckled.

He looked at her questionably. "Nunnally?"

She gave a dismissive wave. "It's nothing it's just that sometimes I pretend that Lelouch is alive and that he just moved far away. I like to imagine that he's safe somewhere working at his dream job and just doesn't have time to visit, or write, or email, or call…" Her brow knitted. "It's funny."

He regarded her with a curious countenance. "What is?"

"Nothing, he just didn't look like himself lying in that casket." She leaned back into her pink lavish wheelchair.

He caressed her knuckles with the side of his thumb. "Nunnally…" his voice died in his throat.

"I know." She sniffed back her tears. "He's dead, but it's just sometimes I can still feel him." She raised her eyes to him and gave an uneasy smile. "It's wishful thinking I know, but I do wish he was here." She confessed, a melancholic expression plastered on her face.

"I wish they both were here, but… it… they… that's just how it had to be. We cannot change the past." He pinched his lips and stared ahead, his mind racing with ideas.

Nunnally grew silent and a lengthy quietude fell over them, nothing piercing the stillness. "Suzaku?"

He looked down at her affectionately. "Yes?"

"I received another bouquet of white roses this morning."

He grinned fondly at her. "You are loved by your subjects, Nunnally." He didn't allow any other emotion to show but playfulness. Nunnally had been receiving a bouquet of two dozen white roses bi-monthly for almost four years now. Either the guy was truly in love with her or… It was at that moment that Suzaku's gears, though they were nowhere near as sharp as the former Zero, began to spin. Perhaps he should investigate this.

She smiled sweetly at him.

* * *

Suzaku closed the door to his private residence, which was not on palace grounds but close enough and removed the helmet and mask. He sighed and went to his chambers, undressing down to his underwear and strode to the bathroom. With a sigh, he looked down at the dark costume lying on his bed. For years now, he had worn that suit just to take a walk around the palace grounds, just to go to a restaurant, just to buy a dozen eggs for an omelet in mornings and now he understood the punishment that Lelouch had laid upon him. He would be forever hidden behind the mask of Zero forever imprisoned, forever a symbol of justice, but never a person. He sighed and walked to the wardrobe in the corner, choosing a pair of sweatpants as his pajamas for the night. He knew he was getting into when he agreed to become Zero, and there was no use in crying over spilled milk. He was paying for his sins by sacrificing his own life.

He padded to the bathroom, a pair of sweat pants beneath an arm, and turned on the shower, testing the water to make sure it was to his liking before getting in. The hot water beat down upon him soothing the knots in his back and sending goosepimples over his tanned skin. His mind continued to return to what Nunnally had said repeatedly until it was a continuous loop playing incessantly in his brain. Lelouch couldn't be alive, it was impossible, he'd plunged that sword through his heart himself. He winced when he thought about the sword he had used to slay his friend. There had been so much blood. C.C. was powerful but he doubted she could trifle with death. He shook his head as if he could shake the idea of his brain with that simple act. No, he'd watched him die. He could not be alive, but then again… "Lelouch are you still alive?"

* * *

Sal's Pizzeria was alive with activity. Either customers sat at their table eating their pizza or waiting patiently on it to be delivered to them (the new couple at the table near the window was trying to keep from sighing when a couple with six children all under ten sat behind them). The kitchen was also full of commotion behind the doors as the cooks hustled about preparing pizza with the specified toppings and side orders.

Sal, a large man wearing a greasy chef's apron and a pencil stuck behind an ear finished stacking a pile of six pizzas just as the bell above the door opened, signifying someone's entrance. He looked up to see his delivery boy and instantly shouted his name. "David!"

David Drake, a man of slender stature (almost underweight) with chocolate brown hair that hung messily in his eyes and clung to the nape of his nape, glanced up, his azure eyes rolling tiredly. He strutted to the counter and stood there with an indifferent stance, waiting for his boss to scold him.

"You're fifteen minutes late David Drake! What do you have to say to that?"

He rolled his eyes again. "That using my full name every time I'm late is excessively wearisome," he responded impudently. He didn't flinch when the large man glowered irately at him. "Fine you want an excuse? I overslept."

Sal squeezed the bridge of his nose with two sausage-sized fingers. "You know what? I don't have time to deal with you this morning." He stuffed the pizzas into the red airtight warmer and sealed it, shoving it to the delivery boy. "These are from an order ten minutes ago. You got twenty minutes to get to the tenth floor of the Weinberg building and deliver those pies."

David clicked his tongue, grasped the full red container, and walked through the swinging doors, grumbling under his breath.

"If you're late you're fired!"

The tantalizing scent of tomato sauce, melting cheese, and baking pizza assaulted his nostrils, but he ignored it and continued through the busy kitchen. He plucked the keys from the hook on the wall and walked out the back door. A scowl graced his face when the old jalopy of a delivery car greeted his narrowed eyes. Sal was such a frugal bastard. How did he expect him to get across the frigid city in this piece of crap? Ah well, he might as well give it a try. He opened the door, threw the warmer to the passenger side, climbed in, and after five attempts finally got the piece of junk started. Soon he was putt-putting down one of the eight-lane streets on his way to the colossal structure towering in the distance. Wasn't Gino's surname Weinberg? Damn, he _was _loaded. He continued to putt-putt down the street as other glossy vehicles whizzed by.

He took a glance in the rearview mirror and winced when he saw the wig covering his dark hair and the blue eyes staring back at him. With a swift movement, he turned on the radio, giving a satisfied sigh when one of the latest rock songs filtered through the speakers. Good, the music was loud, he liked that because that meant that his treacherous thoughts wouldn't be able to manifest themselves. After several mishaps with the car and one traffic jam later, he parked at the entrance of the structure dominating the skyline and scurried to the entrance. The place was all shades of white. He bet the interior decorator thought the colors made it look pristine when in reality it made it look like a dentist's office. He strode nonchalantly to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button, taking a second to check his watch. Five minutes to spare. He tapped his foot impatiently when the elevator doors didn't open for a few moments. There was absolutely no way in hell that he was taking the stairs, he'd sooner leave it downstairs.

Finally, the doors dinged open and he got in, ignoring the lurch it gave when it started to ascend. Three minutes to spare. Okay he would still make it if it only stopped at two floors. The elevator stopped at two floors, but by the time it opened to the tenth floor it was almost at capacity. Lelouch groaned in the corner, knowing he would be seriously cutting it close. As quick as he could he negotiated his way through the workers and stepped out, glancing at his watch again. He smoothed down his green and yellow uniform (an atrocity of colors by his standards), adjusted his visor, and kept walking. He plopped the container on the smooth desktop, getting the attention of the woman behind it filing her nails. "Pizza delivery."

She looked up at him with bored eyes then shifted her gaze to the wall clock. "You're a minute late. I'm not paying for those."

He took a glance down at his watch. "Your clock must be off because mine says--."

She scoffed. "Whatever, I go by our clock and _our _clock says that you're a minute late. So we get the pizzas free," she said the latter part with a hint of triumph.

He clenched his jaw, shooting an icy glare at her. He fought a growl, squashing the idea of using Geass on her, and begrudgingly unzipped the case and stacked the pizzas on the counter.

"Have a nice day," she mocked.

Still glowering at her, he stormed away. Friggin great.

* * *

Lelouch (still disguised as David Drake) kicked a nearby trashcan when he emerged from his former place of employment. He'd just been fired. Of course it wasn't like he was devastated because of losing his job. Nope that was definitely not it. He was glad to be out of that hellhole. He was just upset because now he didn't have anything to distract him any longer. The job had not been a necessity because he always seemed to have an adequate amount of money in his bank account to cover his monthly expenses. It was a distraction to keep busy because when he was idle the crushing loneliness that circled the rim of his consciousness would rise to the surface to torture him. Now that that distraction was gone, he would have to get one quickly.

He huffed and groaned angrily. God he needed a mocha latte to soothe his nerves and he would walk the distance (a mile or two) to get to his favorite coffee shop, The Mud Jug. Two miles and several breaks later he made it to his destination, ordered a large cup of mocha latte (receiving a hungry look from the coffee maid), and took his seat in a corner away from the other patrons. Moments later, he still sat there, gazing out at the scenery. Time was a cruel witch. No matter how much pain or grief one experienced she still ceaselessly flowed, merciless and brutal in her continuity. A river of blood could be spilled upon the battlefield in one night and the sun would still rise in the morning, bathing the bloodied corpses with its radiant light. _Time stops for no man. _How true that maxim proved to be.

He continued to watch the people passing by, envying the families and couples that strode past, laughing and looking lovingly into each other's eyes. Who was he to envy those that had companionship just because he was…? He took another sip of his drink, enjoying the silky texture, and sighed. He had never felt so alone, not even when his father sent him away to a foreign country whose inhabitants hated him. Nunnally had been with him then and he'd covered over whatever fear he had to tend to her. When he'd been Zero he'd had Kallen. When he was betrayed by the very faction he'd fought so hard to lead so that they could vanquish their oppressors, Rolo had been there sacrificing his life so that he could live. When he'd taken the world by the reins and transformed himself into the world's enemy Suzaku had been his unwavering ally. Through it all C.C. had been a constant, always there to help him or offer one of her signature deadpan comments.

Now, he had no one. All the people that he'd allowed into his inner circle were forbidden to him now or had deserted him altogether, leaving him to fend for himself in a cruel world whose coldness froze him to the core and turned his heart into an impenetrable fortress. He took another sip of his warm beverage and sighed heavily, brows knitted in a pensive expression. Even his own identity betrayed him, every reflection showing chestnut hair and sapphire eyes instead of the god-given coloring he'd had at birth. Even his new name, David Drake, was a sham. Yet, it was that same name that people called him, that was on his bank account, that he signed on official documents. Sometimes he felt like his given name was a fraud. But yet he still spoke that name in the darkness of his bedroom and just before he donned his mask for the day: Lelouch. He spoke that name because he was afraid if he didn't, he would become lost within the folds of the masquerade.

He took another sip of tea and buried his face in his hands. Sometimes he wished he had really died that day because he felt dead inside. He was the perfect phantom, his flesh and blood exterior a masterful ruse to fool the public, but inside he was a vacuumed abyss of emptiness. The breathing dead. But that was why he always pretended, so that no one would see the agony he inflicted upon his soul as he molded himself into the villain he needed to be to fix the world. He'd always had a sizeable array of masks, employing the right one for the right occasion, but now was different. He'd been given a second chance but even now as the parade of masks marched by he still was unable to choose his true face. It was irrelevant even if he managed to find his true face because he was still empty inside.

Despite all of this he would continue to live, taking small solaces when he saw Nunnally on the TV (most of her public addresses he recorded) with Zero, dear Suzaku, a dark clad sentry standing at her side gently watching over her. Every time he saw her his chest swelled with pride that she had taken the mantle of empress upon her shoulders and dared to spearhead the world to a better tomorrow through civilized negotiation, unabashed to diplomatically express her beliefs to the masses. She was becoming the strong, independent, beautiful woman he always knew her to be.

A familiar tickle on his hip alerted him before his cell phone belted out a classical tune. He picked it from the case attached to his leather belt and looked at the message. 'R we still on 4 2night?

His spindly fingers nimbly moved over the keyboard of the phone as he replied. 'Yes. Around 10 2night. He pressed the 'Send' button when he finished and waited.

A moment later the phone vibrated again, prompting him to pick it up. He allowed a hungry grin when he saw the answer on the glowing blue screen. 'I'll b there.' He returned his phone to its holder, finished off his latte, and gracefully stood. He had a fancy for a game of chess, hopefully he could find a suitable opponent this time (if not it was always fun to take some poor sucker's money). He headed out of the coffee shop and started off in the direction of Brookhaven, an underground gambling ring whose boon was chess (one of the few in Oxford) which was in one of the seedier, but not downright hazardous, neighborhoods.

* * *

Suzaku bowed out of Nunnally's room when Cornelia entered the room and began brushing his charge's chestnut waves. For the past four years, he'd proven his loyalty both to Nunnally and as a sword of justice to the people. He'd pushed himself to the limit, going beyond it when he utilized the Geass Lelouch bestowed upon him. He was aware that there were still Britannians that didn't trust him (or hated him) and were definitely ill at ease by his presence in the palace and the fact that he curried their empress's favor. Still, though there were those who had come to trust him such as…

"Sir Zero!"

He backpedaled and turned the corner, looking upon the Warrior Goddess herself, Cornelia. Years of military training caused him to give a small reflexive bow. "Princess Cornelia." He looked her over, thankful for his mask for once. She was dressed in her elegant military garb, as usual, and was armed (as usual).

"If you are not busy Sir Zero, I request your private audience," she announced in a business-like manner.

Of course she did. The Second Princess of Britannia never asked for anything. He studied her expression, noticing that there was no hint of malice dwelling latent in those mauve orbs or body language. "Then you have it." He answered with a dramatic swipe of his cape (which he never tired of doing).

She didn't smile, only gave a curt nod. "Follow me."

He nodded, signaling for her to lead. They walked down halls, across lavish courtyards, and passed extravagant palaces separate from the Imperial Palace, until they came to the Ares Palace. He restrained a frown when he entered. This had been the site of Marianne's so-called death, the night a scheme that would upend their lives had been hatched. He raised an eyebrow when they stopped at an embellished door flanked by two stern-faced guards who proceeded to bow once they spotted them.

She pushed the double-doors open and preceded him in.

Suzaku's brow knitted when he saw the lavish room with its beautiful hues of magenta and red, each complimenting each other perfectly. He was so busy trying to figure out what room he was in that he hadn't seen the female attendant pouring wine into their individual glasses on the Victorian coffee table (which was in the same style as the other furniture in the room) until she greeted them.

"Will that be all Your Highness?" she asked softly.

"Yes, thank you Gretta. Close the door on your way out."

"Yes Your Highness." She gave a curtsey and exited the room, closing the doors behind herself.

Suzaku continued looking at the room and upon further scrutiny found that it looked oddly personal with its various paintings of warrior women, a large portrait of Queen Zenobia was displayed on the far wall in an especially honored fashion. Why did she just discard her cape? Wait… Was he in---?

Cornelia dropped onto the comfortable-looking sofa, giving a small smile when he didn't move. "In case you're wondering, yes this is my personal chambers."

What! Heat raced to his cheeks and for once, he was profoundly thankful for the mask concealing his face, for he was sure it would be as red as a tomato at the moment. Oh god. What was he supposed to do? Tell her that she was beautiful but he just didn't like her in that way? He could let her down gently, but Cornelia was known for not taking 'no' for an answer. If he refused she would definitely push her agenda. Heck, she would probably just rape him. Could a guy get raped?

Her painted lips pulled into a wry grin. "Don't flatter yourself Sir Zero, although your mystique is quite appealing I assure you this is not some lover's tryst." She crossed her legs and relaxed into the cushions of the sofa. "It is just that my room seemed the ideal place to speak on the matters I have yet to disclose to you, so please, sit." She gestured towards the sofa opposite her.

He gave an inaudible sigh of relief and swaggered over to the other sofa, eyeing her for a few seconds before sitting down. Before he could say anything Cornelia spoke.

"Have you ever visited the Garden of Demeter?" she asked suddenly, leaning over to pluck the delicate wineglass from the table.

"No." What did she want? Did she request his audience just to talk about a garden?

"You should, it is the loveliest garden in all of Britannia. I daresay of the world. Clovis designed it. It took him five years but he finished it just before he left to become viceroy of Area-- Japan. He called it his masterpiece," she stated, a wistful look in her violet eyes.

Inside the helmet of Zero, Suzaku quirked an eyebrow and inconspicuously the hand concealed beneath his cloak eased to the hilt of his sword. Was that why she called him here? Because she was still sore at Zero (er Lelouch) for killing one of her siblings? Did she bring him here to assassinate him? He didn't speak, intently watching the woman on the sofa. After four years of residing within the imperial circle, he had learned why Lelouch could read the nature of a person so well and used their weaknesses to make them suffer as he manipulated them like his very own living puppets. Britannia was all about appearances. Their so-called polite society was a ruse. Every smile, every laugh, every gesture of friendship, every act of humility was nothing but a pretense. The truth was that most of them with the exception of a few people were snakes preying upon those weaker than themselves, waiting in the grass to strike those who they resented or whose position they coveted with all the speed and lethality of a cobra.

Sensing the tension coming from the man she brought the glass from her lips and gave him a smile. "Please Sir Zero there is no need to be so tense, I have no malice towards you."

Suzaku sat with his back straight and muscles coiled like loaded springs ready to be put in to action. "What may I ask is this private meeting about?" He crossed a leg which he was sure he had seen Lelouch do many times in the past.

"Thank you for serving my sister Sir Zero. I am truly grateful for your loyalty to Britannia."

Suzaku nearly snorted. He had no loyalty to that atrocious nation. His allegiance was to Nunnally. "My loyalty lies to her Imperial Majesty only," he replied, weeding out the tightness in his voice. Like he would ever have any shred of loyalty to the nation that enslaved his motherland.

Cornelia smirked. "Indeed. But Nunnally _is _Britannia," she retorted, putting on a slight air.

"She is _New _Britannia." The genuine smile that graced her face surprised him. What was her game? "Begging your pardon, but you didn't bring me here just to express gratitude. I imagine that there is something of more significance that you wish to discuss with me."

She smiled again, actually admiring his directness. "As you well know that besides Euphy, Nunnally was my favorite sibling. She _and _Lelouch but he-- I wonder what happened to him that made him such a monster." She turned her head away quickly and all but jumped to her feet, striding to the picture of Queen Zenobia. The decreasing sunlight filtering through the uncovered windows danced in her light violet eyes.

Suzaku bit his tongue so hard it almost bled to keep the words 'he wouldn't have had to turn out that way if any of you had come to his rescue when your father threw him away like he was nothing instead of standing idly by like the selfish bastards you are' from spilling forth.

"Which is why I am afraid for her safety."

He rose from his musings and fixed his eyes upon her back, noting the display of trust. He stood and took his place next to her, figuring that maybe such words should be spoken quietly betwixt two people standing rather close in proximity. "Oh?"

She nodded, her glossy locks bouncing slightly. "There are still Purists within our ranks, I know it. However, they are proving rather adept at hiding themselves, pretending that they advocate Nunnally's views when they're actually waiting for the opportune time to strike." Her battle-hardened hands coiled into tight fists and she grit her teeth. "Promise me that you will continue to be her shield Sir Zero."

"I will protect her Majesty with my life," he declared.

Her face softened and she turned her eyes upon him. "I have no doubt." She tapped her lips with a forefinger, brow knitted in deep thought. "Still though, perhaps…" She trailed off, her face set in a contemplative expression.

"Perhaps, maybe her security should be increased." There it was, that same feeling of caution he got when he'd been a Knight of the Round and constantly worried about overstepping his boundaries. No, he was Zero now, and Lelouch never acknowledged boundaries when it came to voicing his own ideas, however impossible and cockamamie they had seemed at certain instances. "I will make sure I am at her side at all times and when I must be absent then I will see to it that the number of her personal guard is doubled."

She shook her head slowly. "No. Then they will know that we are on to them. We cannot be sure if it is even true. My suspicions may just be the result of a militaristic princess living in a time of peace." She chuckled at her attempt at humor to lighten the mood. "But, we'll have to be discreet so we can catch them before they act." A wicked glint flashed through her incredible eyes. "I have a plan."

* * *

Suzaku wandered the halls of the vast and palatial palace. He was quite weary, yet he still meandered, his drifting thoughts traipsing incessantly from problem after problem. First, there was the subject of Nunnally's safety and the suspected Purists scheming in secret. Second was the upcoming negotiation he was asked to attend alongside Kaname Ohgi. Thirdly was finding time to test out the new and improved Lancelot Valkyrie that Lloyd and Cecile insisted was imperative. Then there was the issue that seemed almost as important as his Nunnally's security, going to Lelouch's grave to check his body (yes it seemed morbid but he couldn't exactly ask some random guard to do it.).

He liked having so many things on his plate, because that kept him busy. When he was busy, he had no time to think about all those that he had lost in the War or how empty he felt. He stopped in mid-stride. If there was anyone that knew just about everything that transpired within the palace walls, it was _him. _He hurried through the palace, ignoring his surroundings until he came to suite of the Prime Minister.

He knocked sharply and waited.

The door swung open, revealing a casually clad Schneizel (but was still quite elegant). The blonde's eyes tinged red as he came under the thrall of Geass and he gave a courteous smile. "Come in Master Zero."

Suzaku acknowledged the small bow the man gave and entered the palatial room, wondering why the Second Prince was retiring to bed so early. "Why are you retiring to bed at such an early hour Schniezel-kun?" He asked, knowing the man could not lie. Taking a liberty he would not have dared to had the Second Prince not been enslaved to him by Geass, he sat down in the immaculate white cushioned chair. The only man that he loathed more than the blonde robotically answering his question was Charles zi Britannia himself, and he wasn't even sure if it was an emotion more than it was an inferno that burned in his belly every time he saw anything that reminded him of the cruel tyrant. If Schneizel hadn't convinced the Black Knights to betray Lelouch with that damned recorded message his friend could have changed the world as Zero. He would have never had to give birth to the Zero Requiem and he would still be alive.

Sometimes he wanted to torture the Second Prince. Sometimes he wanted to make him pay in his own blood, pain, and screams of agony for what he'd done to Lelouch. But having a person that was considered one of the greatest strategists in the world in complete and utter subjection to the very man he had so ardently sought to destroy was punishment enough. When he surfaced from his ponderings, the blonde was staring at him with inquiring violet eyes, the same eyes he wanted to gouge out because they were so familiar but yet belonged to the White Devil, the very man that saw the world as one big chess game, the very man that had killed millions of his own people as if he were simply executing a move across the chessboard without a shred of remorse.

"Master Zero, are you well? Do you want any refreshments?"

"No," he snapped venomously, unaffected by the tiny flinch displayed by the imperial. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands together in his lap, exuding confidence. "Sit down Schneizel-kun." He pointed to the settee flanking the chair.

Obediently the handsome Second Prince gracefully took his seat and gazed at him with the blank expression of an automaton waiting on its master's next command. He didn't speak, as if he had learned from his master's displeased reaction to his previous questions about his welfare.

Suzaku wanted to repeatedly pound his fists into the blonde's blank expression and watch it change from emotionless to questioning, to pain, knowing that he would not retaliate, that he would sit there and allow himself to be brutalized by his lord and master. The Japanese man's eyes expanded in shock at his current train of thoughts. What was wrong with him? Why was he thinking about assaulting a man that could not fight back? Had he become such a twisted fiend? No, he would not allow these thoughts to continue to taint his mind. "Would you lie to me Schniezel-kun?"

The prince's brow knitted but he answered truthfully, as usual. "I would never lie to you. You are my lord and master."

Suzaku, pleased to hear these honest response, smiled inside his mask and reached over to pat the other's lustrous blonde tresses as if he was a beloved dog. "Good. Now, I need you to answer a few questions I have about the secret happenings within this palace."

* * *

David (Lelouch in disguise) let out a wail as he came to a shuddering climax, collapsing and burying his face in the pillow as he rode out the shattering pleasure. When he finally picked up the pieces of himself, he finally became aware of the woman writhing in bliss beneath him. There were no sweet nothings, no meaningful smiles, or any gentle kisses exchanged between the two. He merely rolled off her and onto his back, trying not to scratch the hairs of the wig plastered to the sweat on his forehead. After their breathing regulated, he lay there for a few moments… waiting. This was usually when she would get up, get dressed, and beat a hasty retreat to the door (he would walk her of course). They would exchange their gratitude for the great screw and that would be it until the next night either of them got the itch.

However, instead of getting up she turned over, cuddled into the covers, and dropped off into slumber. Lelouch regarded her in surprise, reaching out to swipe away an offending chocolate strand that fell in her face. He yawned and touched the Sanskrit tattoo encircling her wrist. They were not in love, that was definite, but this 'arrangement' was thus far to his tastes. After a few minutes of _not _sleeping, he threw back the covers, put on his boxers, then his robe, and walked across the hardwood floors to his smallish family room.

He stood in the window for a moment, looking out at Seagull Harbor and the way the moon shimmered upon the tranquil waters. C.C., after much aggressive negotiations, had managed to get him a condominium out here and he was very thankful. Although he really didn't like his neighbors the Coppertons, an elderly couple who liked to eavesdrop on him and Stella when they were 'in the act' (he'd heard talking outside once when the husband asked the wife did she think they were going to go again) like their own personal skin flick. With a sigh, he strode to the chess set in front of the glass sliding doors and took a seat, engaging himself in a game of his adored past time. About two hours later, she emerged from his room, fully clothed (minus the pair of black open-toed shoes in her hand.)

She'd moved from Pendragon three months ago to take care of her ailing aunt (the actual owner of Penny's Perennials). When they'd first met (and after she had called him a jackass) he'd wanted her. He didn't know what had provoked his lust, but he knew that he'd wanted her, bad. They'd become lovers, not out of love of course (for Lelouch was unsure if he could love any woman right now) but more for the reasons of convenience and distraction.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She fixed the straps of her sleeveless form-fitting sheath.

He kept his eyes on the chess set, moving a pawn forward. "Would you believe me if I said you looked too peaceful?" Actually, he was still trying to put his finger on the reason why he allowed her to sleep in his bed.

"No," came the reply.

He smirked. "How about a game of chess?" He raised his eyes to hers, remembering what happened the last time they played chess together, (it was a massacre).

She snorted disdainfully. "So you can crush me again? No thank you," she said in that pebbly voice (which often times made it hard for her to be taken seriously when she was angry).

"Sore loser." He returned his attention to the board, moving another piece. He finished the match (he won of course) in less than five minutes. "Then how about a cup of coffee? I have some brewing in the coffeepot already."

Stella, who had been watching him play the imaginary person at the opposite end of the table, stooped to put on a shoe, giving a good eyeful of her cleavage. "I have to get back to Auntie Penny."

He stood gracefully and swaggered to her. "She'll be fine," he said silkily. "Besides, it's just coffee." What the hell was wrong with him? He should be sending her out the door not allowing her to stay longer by drinking coffee.

She stepped back, becoming instantly drawn into those sapphire eyes. "You said the same thing that night we first did it," she replied, tugging her golden brown mane after successfully adorning her second shoe.

He strutted to his large traditional kitchen which in his eyes was quite beautiful with its stone walls, dark brown finished cabinets, lamp-style chandeliers, and arch over his stove. "It was your choice to make. You could have just as easily declined the offer." He took down a pair of mugs poured the dark, steaming liquid into each one and then fixed them according to their preferences: a half lump of sugar, honey, and cream for himself and two lumps of sugar and milk for her. He scratched the wig (holding back a growl) and lifted both mugs from the counter, setting hers in front of the chair opposite him before he sat at the two-person table.

"Yes, but you're so bossy," she said with a tiny amount of venom and sat down in the dark chair opposite him, enjoying the design of the tabletop.

"_Persuasive_." He corrected her. Why was he in such a good mood? … Oh yeah, _that_.

She rolled her eyes and took a tentative sip of her coffee, keeping her gaze on the cup when she brought it from her lips.

He studied the woman across from him, observing the way she fidgeted with her mug and stared at the table like it was the most interesting damn thing in the world. Her emotions were never hard to read, not with a person whose face always seemed to betray her. Was she ashamed of herself for being some guy's bed toy? "Do you resent me for using you like this?" Why did he even ask such a stupid question? He didn't care how she felt, he only wanted one thing from her and it didn't matter how tore up her emotions became as long as he could satisfy himself. That's what he told himself, but that tiny voice in the back of his head had another theory.

"Not at all."

Her answer caught him off guard and he hated her for that. "So you don't care if I use your body to sate my own carnal pleasures?" She shook her head. "You don't mind being my screw buddy?" Another shake of her head. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Idiot."

She gave a soft smile. "Between the shop and taking care of Auntie Penny, I don't have time for a relationship, but I have needs. So this arrangement is convenient."

He sneered. "Being objects of desire to each other is a dangerous road that leads to pain." He took a swallow of coffee trying not to whimper as it burned like hell going down.

"Only if one of us falls in love and it isn't reciprocated," she responded casually, raising her eyes but not quite meeting his gaze.

A silence fell over them, stretching for what seemed like an eternity until she decided to speak. "Guess what."

"What?" He slouched back in his chair.

"Guess." An icy glare prompted her to abandon the childish game. "Since you're so obsessed with Empress Nunnally--."

"I am not obsessed!" he shouted, hoping that his eyes didn't give too much away.

She clicked her tongue. "Says the guy that records all of her public addresses."

He glowered at her. "I should have never made coffee for you," he growled.

She ignored his sour expression. "But you did. Anyway, one of my friends from the Rose Committee said that, and this hasn't been released to the public yet, but Oxford is hosting the Independence Festival!"

He could not hide the look of utter shock on his countenance. If Oxford was hosting the Independence Festival then that meant that Nunnally would be--.

"But I'm not going."

"Why?" He thought she was going to say something cliché like 'I don't have a date' but again he was forced to have an acquaintance with surprise when she replied.

"It's wrong."

He didn't respond but raised any eyebrow as an indication for her to elaborate.

"He was just a kid you know. He was the same age I was four years ago. He didn't even get to see life beyond high school, before they took it away."

He managed to keep his face stony and his expression indifferent when he responded. "He was an evil bastard that tried to take over the entire world. I think he deserved death." This was the reply he'd come up with just in case the subject surfaced in a conversation. At first, it kind of stung to say but now he'd rehearsed it so many times that it rolled off his tongue with ease.

"That's not true!" She exclaimed, eyes blazing indignantly.

The outburst was unexpected and it startled him. Stella never got upset enough to yell. Ever. If she got upset, she usually wielded sarcasm like a double-edged sword to slice up her unlucky victim or cruelly ignored them like the plague. This outburst meant that she was particularly passionate about this subject.

"He was just a kid." She repeated softly. "Besides, I think he wanted to die."

What? "Oh?"

She nodded with a triumphant countenance. "Think about it. He didn't even fight back. The whole world's hatred was directed at him so when he died peace followed and his sister came into power."

He forced an expression of apathy. "So?"

"_So_, I think that was his plan all along."

He wanted to smile and tell her how right she was but instead he took a gulp of the warm coffee and replied, "that theory borders on the imbecilic and if you don't want to be considered treasonous and sentenced to life in prison or worse, _death_ you should keep it to yourself."

She looked down sheepishly and drained her coffee mug. "I know." She fidgeted a few moments then looked up, a wicked glint in her bluish-gray eyes. "You know what else I think?"

He sighed wearisomely. "What?"

"That Zero is that hot guy Suzaku."

How the hell did she figure that out? "Hot?"

"Yeah, no offense Davey, you are pretty, but he's exotic and probably ripped. When I was in high school I downloaded a picture of him off the Net, printed it out, blew it up, and tacked it to my ceiling," she said nostalgically, suggestively biting her bottom limp. "I wonder if he's taken."

A familiar jealousy rose into him but he dismissed it and stayed to the subject at hand. "I don't want to hear about your frivolous schoolgirl infatuations."

"Jealous?" she said sardonically.

"Nauseated," he retorted.

She smiled and folded her arms.

"How long did it take you to figure all of this out?" he asked with a grin.

"Not everyone has a genius IQ Davey," she said good-naturedly. She stood quickly, flipping her brunette tresses. A quick glance to the owl wall clock (which was creepy beyond belief) told her it was 1:30am, way past the curfew she applied to herself. "I have to go."

He grasped her wrist, knowing that she could possibly overpower him (she was taking up kickboxing), but he always resorted to more _persuasive _means, and gently kissed each symbol. He smiled when she shuddered and tried to protest when he stood, but cut her off by claiming her mouth in a sweet kiss that rendered her breathless.

* * *

Lelouch sat up in the bed, back against the headboard, thinking. His thoughts consisted of Nunnally and the fact that he would get to see her in a few months. Of course, he would not get near enough to touch her but he would get close. Would she look as grown up and sophisticated in person as she did on television? How tall was Suzaku now? Would Kallen and the others attend as well? Would C.C. visit him?

He cut his eyes when Stella shifted to her stomach, causing the sheets to rustle. She was watching him intently and it reminded him of what she had said when they first met _'God you're scrawny'._ "What?" He inquired with a hint of vexation at how vulnerable his naked body was to her scrutiny.

"It was different this time," she replied a contemplative expression etched in her face.

"Really? And don't bothering going into detail because I was present as well."

She glowered at him. What a jackass. "Do you always have to be a smartass?" she asked half annoyance half-joking.

He gave a soft smile. "It's my nature." He patted her head, enjoying the silkiness of her hair.

She grew quiet for a long while, a pensive countenance on her face.

He picked up a book, _Nicholas Nickelby, _and started to read. He'd been reading for a good while and was quite engrossed in the book when something passed through his peripheral vision. Out of reflex he moved, but it was already too late. His dark raven locks fell in his face. He looked with wide eyes at the brown wig in her hand. Shit.

She looked at the wig in her hand at his black hair, and then at the hugely pissed man opposite her. Ohmigod! It was him. It was… "Lelouch."

She couldn't know his identity, it was too dangerous for him (and her too). The more people that knew he was alive the bigger the possibility there was of it getting back to his enemies, which meant there was a bigger chance of him being executed. He had no other choice. He raised a hand to his face, taking out both eye contacts in one move, revealing the winged symbols in his reddish hued eyes.

Her eyes broadened when she saw the Geass symbols and she gulped. She'd never seen anything so eerie in her life. What were those symbols in his eyes? She wanted to shrink back, but she couldn't look away for reasons she could not understand. What was he going to do to her?

He thought about the command he would give her, but when he saw the resignation carved into her features he stopped. Every part of him screamed for him to Geass her but a small part, the small portion that wanted to hear his name on the lips of someone other than himself stayed his hand. Perhaps it was the need for someone to actually know his identity, that David Drake was nothing more that a masquerade not Lelouch Lamperouge, or the desire to be touched without his lover being ignorant of his identity that influenced his decision. Damn. He cursed inwardly and turned to his bedside table, retrieving two sets of contact containers. He placed the blue ones in one and placed the clear contacts into his eyes. He finger-combed his raven hair and glanced over at her, inwardly smiling when she apparently liked what she saw.

"You're cuter without the disguise." She handed him the wig.

He took it and tossed it onto a chair in front of the window. "Yes well I can't very well parade around as myself in public due to a little problem known as instant execution," he answered casually, looking down at his book to see where he stopped.

"Well, there is that." She scooted down in the bed and turned onto her stomach, exposing her bare back and the Arabic writing covering her left shoulder blade.

"Why have you never told me what the tattoo on your left shoulder says?" He glided his slender fingers over the writing inked into her milky skin. Stella had three tattoos in total: the Sanskrit encircling her wrist, the lotus blossom on her right shoulder, and the Arabic script covering her left shoulder blade.

He glared at her when bluish-silver orbs glinted playfully. "Shut up and tell me what it says already." He demanded.

"Yes Your Majesty."

He glowered at her. "You're lucky you're the fairer sex." The smile she gave and the emotions in her stunning eyes showed him too much of her feelings, too much of what she felt for him. He averted his gaze. "Well are you going to tell me or not?"

"Fine." She sighed. "It says:

_Fathers and mothers, husbands and wives,_

_Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters,_

_Lives lost within the myriad of the dead_

_Blood joining the crimson streams that stain the battlefield._

_I have witnessed the massacres. I have experienced the grief._

_Creator above may your grace continue to_

_Soothe and calm those left behind._

_May your radiant light guide those soldiers,_

_The nameless and the unsung,_

_The celebrated and the famed,_

_The vilified and the detested_

_To the gates of the hereafter._

_May we not forget those that died_

_So that we could bask in the golden hue of a better tomorrow,_

_Lest their sacrifices be in vain._

_May they stand as radiant beacons,_

_For all that we lost in War_

_And have gained through peace_

_For generations to come._

"It doesn't rhyme," he stated, a playful inflection in his voice. Actually, it was quite a beautiful poem and thought that the families of all those that had fallen in death would greatly appreciate the tribute.

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "Wow, was that a humor?"

He tilted his head arrogantly in the air. "If you have to ask then the concept is lost to you."

"You're impossible." She yawned and gave a feline stretch. "But I suppose that's part of your charm, as weird as that sounds." She turned to her side, pulling the sheets over her bare bosoms, and slid her hand under the pillow. "Good night."

"Good night." In less than a few minutes, he found himself wondering how a person could fall asleep that fast. He sighed and closed his book, scooting down until his head lay on his downy pillow. He cut the lamp off, drenching the room in darkness, and wriggled until he found a comfortable spot, facing her. This was dangerous, allowing her to stay the night just because he didn't want to be alone. He was thinking with his heart and that was a fool's game for a person in his position. Honestly, he didn't have the slightest inkling what possessed him to allow her to stay here because he didn't love her. Lelouch groaned in frustration. He hated it when he didn't how to explain his behavior. He sighed again. Well, there was no reason losing sleep on the matter. That night he had sweet dreams filled with the possibility of see his beloved younger sister in the flesh in over four years.

* * *

A cloaked figure walked down the cobbled path of the Imperial Graveyard. They had buried Lelouch in the Graveyard of Kings, which was separate from the Imperial Graveyard, because despite their hatred for his brief tyrannical reign, he had been an Emperor and thus tradition dictated that he was buried with his predecessors. However, they isolated his tomb from the others and marked his grave with an obsidian plaque inscribed with the epitaph 'The boy that became the Demon Emperor'.

He continued down the path past the silent tombstones, the only testaments of emperors both great, mediocre, and card-carrying chauvinistic sociopaths (case in point Charles zi Britannia). He walked through the gates to the Graveyard of Kings, striding past marble sarcophaguses and tombs made of glass, and pulled his cloak closer when he felt a shiver run down his spine. God he hated cemeteries, they were so gloomy and silent. He ascended a hill and stopped at the sarcophagus that held the corpse of his dearest friend. He slid his fingers tenderly over the smooth marble, recalling just how hard Nunnally fought so that the lid of his sarcophagus was not sculpted to represent evil. A tear dropped from one of his emerald eyes, trickling down his tanned cheek. He recalled the determined and utterly resolute visage she'd displayed when all the other imperials refused to have a representation of his face carved into the marble. She'd said that she was fighting because _'he fought so much for me in life the least I can do is fight for him in death'_. Hot tears pooled in his eyes but he willed them not to fall. He would not allow himself cry, because he had to continue to be Nunnally's shield, unbreakable, unwavering. He could not falter, not now.

Taking a deep inhalation, he set his hands against the lid, and pushed. Stone grated against stone as he shoved it to the side, causing it to thud to the ground. He bit his lips mentally preparing himself to look upon the corpse of his cherished friend. A breath escaped him when he allowed his eyes to travel downward.

Lelouch lay beneath the glass perfectly preserved, surrounded by the finest silk and looking exactly the way he had four years ago without an ounce of decay visible. His face was serene as if he were just taking a nap like the last time they'd slept together (for the sake of old times like in their childhood). Softly he touched the cool glass wishing that all he was doing was sleeping and that at any moment he was going to wake up and shout 'Stop looking at me while I sleep you pervert!'. Unfortunately, he knew that was not going to happen.

He leaned down and closely examined the corpse, paying meticulous attention to each and every exposed bit of skin of the carcass. When his scrutinizing gaze came to his friend's hands, which were crossed in front of him, his eyes widened. There on the ring finger of his left hand was a thin red scratch. Instantly, he was forced to relive that day, remembering when they took his corpse to the undertaker there had been no wounds save the one in his chest.

He recalled Lelouch telling him about the mask Sayoko used to wear to so she could fill in for him while he was on missions as Zero. His brow knitted and thought for a moment, second-guessing the dreadful act he was considering. He needed to touch the face, but that meant… ugh. That was gross, but his curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself lifting the glass lid that immaculately preserved the former emperor, exposing the cadaver to the elements and increasing sunlight. He gulped and touched the slightly injured hand. His hand, it was so cold and pale and… lifeless.

He reached towards Lelouch's serene face, searching for something, anything. Blindly he tenderly glided his fingertips over his features, frowning at the sickening coolness, eventually stopping when he felt a bump near his ear. _That's new. _He found the same bump preceding the other ear and pressed both at the same time, pulling the mask off. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

He gasped and stared unblinking at the corpse, an utterly astounded expression claiming his handsome features. I-it couldn't… but he-- he watched…no… but how… oh god. He stood there, stupefied, brain struggling to process the information coming from his eyes. He grasped the side of the casket to steady his quaking knees, taking in deep breaths, overcome with both astonishment and overpowering elation. He stared down at the corpse in the casket and laughed, something he had not done in a while, tears rolling down his cheeks.

For you see the corpse in the casket did not have jet-black hair, instead a shock of ash blonde hair crowned his head.

Lelouch was alive.

* * *

Somewhere in the Duchy of Wales in one of the many estates peppering the countryside Guinevere su Britannia and Odysseus eu Britannia, the former First Prince and Princess of Britannia, stood outside of a baroque door. "I don't know about this Guinevere."

She ran a green-gloved hand over her elder brother's handsome face. "You deserve better than this dear brother, we all do." She adjusted the jabot falling around his neck, dotingly smiling at him.

"Yes, but--" he said unsure about his presence here. After all, he had never really wanted the throne in the first place, but he did like living in luxury and compared to the way he used to live within the palatial palace of Pendragon he was leading the life a commoner. Still though he was a bit fond of Nunnally and thought she was doing a decent job of ruling New Britannia (as he'd heard it called). It's just that his life here in this god-forsaken manor (not to mention the small bit of resentment he held for the Areas being liberated and allowed to take up their old names) that peeved him, but perhaps he shouldn't get involved with Guinevere's plans.

Silently she rolled her eyes, vexed by her brother's indecisive attitude. Odysseus was such an infant, always needing to have his hand held, but that is what made him so easy to manipulate. "You were stripped of both your knight and your title. The title that was yours at birth." She leaned forward and rested a hand behind his neck, gently running her fingers in soothing circles in a certain spot on his head that always seemed to calm him. "You deserve to live in luxury brother, you deserve to have your birthright," she said, voice dropping into a hypnotic murmur, "you want all of that back don't you?"

He let out a sigh. "Yes."

"Then, follow me." She pushed the door open.

Inside the room sitting around a lengthy oval table were elegantly attired men and women of Britannian nationality. There were familiar faces (Carline le Britannia, Cassius le Britannia) and unfamiliar faces (Duke Weiheimer, Countess el Faite, Sir Barkley) among their ranks. Each wore the expression of aristocrats stripped of their titles, forced to flee for their lives, and plunged into hard times that left them almost destitute. Yep, they all looked thoroughly pissed.

Guinevere strutted to the head of the table and stood while her older brother took his seat to her right, setting a sympathetic eye upon the people at the table. "Fellow members of the nobility," she started, addressing them with an air of pride tempered by empathy. "I know that it took a lot for some of you to get here and that sacrifice is duly noted. In the past four years, my dear brother and I have suffered just as you have. We were stripped of our titles and forced to work as common servants in that atrocity that they call a palace, watching as our beloved country is ruled by the crippled sister of the deceased Demon King, a tyrant that nearly dismantled our entire kingdom in a month."

A murmur rose through the group, each of them nodding in agreement.

"That is why we are here ladies and gentlemen. To reclaim the titles that we were given and rescue our beloved kingdom from the hands of that child that continues to lend Britannia out to everyone that calls out for aid, allying with every country, state, and province that she can. Britannia is not meant to be a friend, an ally to those former Numbers that are fit for nothing other than serving us. Britannia is meant to rule!" She banged a fist on the table, getting a 'Hear! Hear!' from the audience.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile that was directed at Carline who was wearing a much more sinister smirk. "Will you help me comrades? Will you aid my attempt to regain control of our land and get revenge upon on those that cast us out as if we were unwanted spare parts? Will you help me to depose the current empress and put the rightful ruler upon the throne, so that Britannia can be restored to her former beauty?"

The group let out a single united resounding "Aye!".

She gave a satisfied smile, malevolence and hatred swimming in her eyes. "Then I bid you welcome my fellow countrymen to the maiden assembly of The Purists."

* * *

**A.N.: Sorry it took a while for this but we went out of town last week and well I didn't have time to use my laptop so, here's the second chappie. I hope you all enjoy it and don't forget to Read and Review. Constructive criticism but no Flames are welcome. Anyway, I hope this isn't a little OC and if it is, sorry. Enjoy!**

**P.S. The meaning to the tattoo that Stella recited is called Tribute to the Fallen by JerichoGirl. It probably sucks I know, I'm no good at poems, but I felt like putting a personal touch on it because it's supposed to be a prayer.**

**XOXO**

**Next Chapter: Mosaic Fragments**


	3. Mosaic Fragments

**A.N: Sorry for the wait, I got a little sidetracked by an idea for a new Vampire Knight fic (but I was already halfway finished with this chapter so I decided to finish and update it anyway) which will be gothic oneshots based on fairytales and folktales around the globe. Anyway really like this chapter because things start to gain momentum and… well you'll see the other reason during this chapter. Anyway, on with the chapter!**

* * *

**I do not own Code Geass, because if I did, Lelouch would be handcuffed to my bed.**

**Mosaic Fragments**

_Stuck together haphazardly, making a pretty pattern, making no sense, making me smile. The pattern's getting blurred now. Or is it just the tears in my eyes? Why do I cry? Pretty patterns never last, not forever. That's why. - Expert from _Mental Mosaic_ by Denrele Ogunwa_

It was a balmy summer day in the city of Oxford, the sun beaming brightly in the cloudless azure sky. Traffic on the freeway moved along at a comfortable pace, not at all in the intolerable rate that was customary. Perhaps it was partially due to the heat of the day or perhaps it was because of the fact that all the busybodies were trying to decorate Rose Avenue for the upcoming Independence Parade. Whatever the case those that were in a hurry thanked whatever the reason and traveled merrily to their destinations.

David rode down the freeway on his motorbike-something else he'd splurged to buy himself a month ago- chestnut hair whipping around his helmet. He was late and frankly he didn't give a damn, Regina should learn to start scheduling him for the afternoon instead of mornings. It wasn't like he needed the money anyhow, he just enjoyed the sport. He flicked his turning signal and leaned slightly to the side, veering onto the next exit, speeding down the spiraling pass until he hit the highway. He drove for a mile or so more, continuing down the highway even as the traffic slowed and the condition of the neighborhood degenerated until he found himself in the slums.

He stopped his motorbike on the curb in front of a Chinese restaurant, The Gold Dragon, casting a glance at the brawny man sitting on the steps of the eatery smoking what appeared to be a cigarette but definitely did not smell like one. The man's name was Jimmy; he would make sure Lelouch's ride was intact when he departed. He lifted his helmet from his head and hung it on the handlebars, striding past Jimmy without gawking at his number of tattoos and piercings. Moments later after he'd bypassed the Oriental themed dining area, he came to a door in the far corner of the busy kitchen. Without hesitating he rapped on the slotted door in an abnormal succession.

The slot opened and two pairs of eyes became visible in the small space before closing the aperture again. Locks clinked as they were unbolted and unlatched before the door was pulled open by an elderly man with spectacles on his face. "Ah, Mister Drake, come in. Regina has been waiting for you."

He gave a quick gesture of acknowledgement to the doorman before entering the area. The room was alive with activity. The sounds of tiles being rattled, cards being shuffled, and chatter among the betters and competitors filled his ears. Nicotine and other harmful pollutants stemming from the cigars and cigarettes the gamblers and competitors tended to smoke filled the air, causing him to give a slight cough. He frowned deeply. He was going to have to stop coming here, because there was no way in hell that he was going to die from a habit that he didn't even indulge in. With an arrogant tilt of his head he followed the old man, stopping when his sponsor, Regina stepped in front of him.

"You're late," Regina chided lowly.

Lelouch shrugged. "Then schedule my matches in the afternoons so I won't be," he replied sharply. Regina was a middle-aged woman with a beautiful face, statuesque body, and a thing for young pretty boys like him. Although she was a trophy to most young men he was not attracted to her-- she was way too greedy and petty and thus undesirable in his eyes. He didn't flinch when green eyes flared with irritation and she flipped her fiery red hair.

"Just get over there."

Lelouch glared at her momentarily, not liking the idea of being ordered to do anything, and strode to the table at which a rather obese man sat. He dropped into the chair, ignoring, for the moment, the crowd that had seemed to instantly appear out of nowhere once he sat down. His piercing blue eyes fixed themselves on his rotund opponent, noting the bad comb-over and beady eyes.

"David Drake," he greeted a derisive sneer on his thin lips. "I thought Regina's prized commodity and such an _acclaimed_ player would be older."

A few members of the surrounding crowd sniggered softly.

Lelouch crossed his legs and presented a cool expression. "And what is your name?"

He smiled proudly, showing straight white teeth. "John Pembrooke. One of the best players you'll ever meet."

Lelouch restrained a snort. This man did not look like he was on the same level of Schneizel. "Then perhaps you can enlighten me as to why- despite your age and supposed skill- your name hasn't even tickled my ears whereas you apparently know mine?"

John's eyes widened and his round face reddened in indignation. "An insolent tongue for such a young whelp."

The small crowd fell silent watching the exchange.

He sneered scathingly at the much younger man. "I say her confidence in you is ill-advised," he growled, the extra skin sagging from his chin rippling with every word he muttered.

Lelouch maintained his indifferent façade. "Then let us allow our skills to end this argument," he responded challengingly, gesturing towards the chess set before them.

Thirty minutes later, John stared incredulously at his tipped over white king piece. "H--?" He stammered, hardly able to believe that he was beaten so easily and in such a short amount of time.

A sense of triumph rolled through him at the man's amazed countenance. "I suppose you were the one ill-advised." That utterly incredulous expression plastered on his opponents' faces when he mopped the chessboard with them never became monotonous.

After the winnings were gathered and counted Regina kissed his cheek softly, allowing her lips to linger for several excruciating seconds before she drew away. "You are truly amazing Mister Drake," she purred hungrily into his ear.

He pushed his chair back and stood, ready to leave before Regina decided to have one of her muscle-bound minions haul him to her bedroom. "I know, now if you'll excuse me I must be going." He gave her hand a gentlemanly kiss before turning to leave.

John, whose face was currently flaming with infuriation, slammed his salami-sized fists on the table, rattling the chess set. "I demand a rematch!!" He bellowed, his gruff voice echoing through the room, getting the attention of other pools of gamblers.

Lelouch turned upon the man, smirking arrogantly. "Why? No matter how many matches we have the result will be the same… I _will _crush you." With that he turned and swaggered through the line the crowd had formed for him.

* * *

Later he strolled down the urban street, secretly missing the lush scenery of the Garden District, and stopped at a baby blue townhouse flanked between the bookstore and the burlesque club. The townhouse was quaint with a classic white picket fence enclosing it and its impeccably kept flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. He walked through the opening that led to the driveway, past the glossy, black car and to the white door.

He rang the doorbell twice and waited. The door opened and an elderly lady in a wheelchair sat there. Her green eyes sparkled when she saw him.

"David! Come in, come in." She wheeled the chair backwards and to the side to allow him entrance, shutting the door behind him. "Stella is going to be so surprised to see you."

He followed her into the den, listening as Penny continued prattling on. It had been two weeks since the last time he and Stella had screwed and honestly he was so horny it was starting to ache. He was here for only two reasons: he didn't feel like going through the hassle to find another fuck buddy when she already knew his true identity and his hand could only get him so far.

"The girl has been working nonstop taking care of both the shop and me since my follow-up surgery I had two weeks ago."

"Auntie Penny…?" She stopped in the archway of the den, her eyes falling instantly to him.

He smirked when he saw the appraising gaze she ran over his body, her eyes subtly gleaming with raw need. Then, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed the casual sundress, the lack of makeup, and the wisps of golden brown hair falling rebelliously from her ponytail. She looked… natural and he found that it felt pleasant to see her so relaxed. "You look like hell," he observed blandly. The glare she sent his direction told him loud and clear that she was too stressed for his shit right now.

"Yeah, well getting only four hours of sleep every night for two weeks will do that to you." Then she directed her attention to her aunt. "Auntie Penny you're not supposed to be up you could strain yourself!" She scolded her aunt scampering over to grasp he handlebars of the wheelchair to take her back to her room. "I'm taking you back to your room."

Lelouch watched in amusement as the gray-haired woman struck at Stella's hands to keep her at bay, landing a firm strike that discouraged the younger female to pursue her previous course. He fought the tug at the corners of his mouth when she drew away rubbing her stinging hands while sending a glare to her aunt.

"I'm fine, I even worked in the garden today while you were out," she announced triumphantly.

"What!" She exclaimed. "The doctor said--."

"I don't think she cares what the doctors say." He put in, giving a shrug when she glowered at him. It was fun teasing her when she was already on the receiving end of her aunt's taunting.

Penny waved dismissively at the mentions of doctors. "Doctors schmoctors," she snorted, wheeling her way towards the kitchen. "Bunch of butchers with degrees the entire lot of them. Telling me I can't work in my garden for a month. Why that's utter nonsense!"

Stella, followed by Lelouch, sighed at her aunt's headstrongness. "But Auntie Penny they are just trying to make sure you recuperate at the desired pace."

"What did you cook for dinner?"

"Spaghetti cabonara but--."

"Good, I love spaghetti cabonara." She wheeled her way into the tastefully decorated country kitchen and went straight to the stove. "Now you two go on, I'll be fine."

Stella took down a plate from one of the white cabinets and sat it on the counter. "But Auntie--" She lifted the lid from the pot, releasing the delectable aroma of its contents.

Penny clicked her tongue. "Don't worry I'll be fine. Now you go on and give David here some loving. I'm pretty sure he's tired of doing it on his own," she said casually, a perverted twinkle glittering in her old eyes.

Lelouch smirked, finding the flaming scarlet coloring Stella's face quite entertaining. Penny was by far one of his favorite old people, because he could hardly ever predict what was coming out of her mouth next.

Stella covered her forehead, giving an exasperated sigh. God why did her aunt always have to talk about 'relations'? "I'll go if that means you won't say something so crude again."

Penny chuckled. "You're so squeamish, just like your mother." She found a spoon in the silverware drawer and began scooping spoonfuls onto her plate. "Take the car. You'll get there faster."

"Yes ma'am." She picked the car keys from the hook attached to the monthly planner bulletin board posted on the wall and scurried out of the kitchen with him in tow, hoping to get away before her aunt embarrassed her anymore.

Lelouch allowed her tug him out by the arm, sending a glance down to those gorgeous legs. "I wanted some spaghetti cabonara." He pouted. Now that they were so close he saw that the sundress was slightly see-through and he could discern a pair of black panties. And he would bet his bottom dollar that those panties were lace, which meant that she was wearing the matching bra that lifted and separated. Thinking about her bra and panties made him imagine what body parts were beneath those same garments which in turn sent a spike of heat to the pit of his belly. Shit. He'd never thought that he would ever crave so much for sex, but at the moment he was so horny he wanted to drag her upstairs to her room and pound her into the mattress.

She glowered over her shoulder. "No spaghetti for you."

He smirked, unable to fight the urge to taunt her. "Well don't punish me just because you're trying to escape before your aunt embarrasses you again," he said nonchalantly, an impish edge to her voice. They'd made it to the house entrance when Penny shouted to get their attention. He couldn't help but give a tiny smirk when she audibly groaned.

"Too late," he spoke with a wicked grin. "I'm going to guess that you'll turn tomato red this time. Or perhaps beet." The hard glare she aimed at him only fueled his fun.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying my discomfort so much you sadist," she snapped playfully.

It was true. He was enjoying her obvious mortification too much, but if he had known why the elderly woman had halted their departure he would have got the hell outta dodge at top speed. But he didn't know, so he just regarded her with glittering eyes as she approached them.

"I forgot to give you something."

He quirked an eyebrow when she took his hand in both of hers, cheeks coloring slightly when he realized what she'd put in his hands. What the hell was an old woman doing carrying these things around? She was waaay past the age of fertility.

"I don't want you getting my niece preggers," she elaborated, suspiciously narrowing her eyes at him.

"Ohmigod." He heard Stella moan when she realized what was in his hand."

"Now you be sure to use those David. I didn't know if you were a magnum or what so I just got one size fits all," she explained as if she were stating the most natural thing on earth.

Stella would swear that her face was melting by now.

He stared down at the three square packets in the palms in his hand, reading the words TROJAN ECSTASY, stamped across them in bold print. "Yes ma'am." Okay now he was experiencing discomfort but nowhere near as mortified as his partner. He didn't know what embarrassed him most; the fact that she went shopping for condoms for them or that she attempted to guess his 'size'.

"Good, now don't let this pretty boy talk you into not using them because 'they take away the feeling'," she preached to her niece firmly. "Remember, no glove no love."

"Yes ma'am," she mumbled sheepishly, wanting to fling herself off the nearest skyscraper at the moment.

"Now go, and have a good time."

Lelouch jumped at the dismissal, ushering her out of the home and into the summer evening almost before Penny finished talking. "I feel sorry for you." He stated simply, swaggering over to the passenger side of the automobile.

She unlocked the doors with the key and opened the door. "Me too. She climbed into the car, smiling when it roared to life at the turn of the ignition. "Sooo did your--"

He knew exactly what she was trying to say. "I do not masturbate." He clicked his seatbelt into place, gripping the dashboard when she came just shy of knocking the mailbox over on the way out of the driveway.

She scowled and tightened her hold on the steering wheel. "Then how else did you relieve yourself? Do you have another screw toy I don't know about?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes dramatically. Goddamnit, he was caught in another trap. "No."

"So… you jerked off?"

He set his lips into a thin line. "I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer." He ignored the subsequent laugh she gave even if it did remind him of tinkering wind chimes.

* * *

The black muscle car sat in the driveway of Lelouch's seaside condo, each of its windows fogged from the heated activity that had just finished transpiring. Lelouch lay draped over his lover, a foot braced on the floor, basking in the afterglow of their lust and passion put into action. Having sex in the backseat of Penny's car (Stella sold hers to make a payment on some of her aunt's medical bills) was a first for him and he found it rather exhilarating.

He leaned over, whispering breathy sweet-nothings in Japanese in her ear before dropping to lathe her slender neck in tender kisses. Deep down, he knew that the frenzied almost animalistic sex that they'd just had was a rare occurrence that stemmed from weeks of unfulfilled fleshly cravings, and it immensely unsettled him. But for now he would-- His thoughts halted on a dime when she took in a deep gasp, finally comiing down from her euphoria, causing her bosoms to press into the smooth planes of his chest.

"Well, the stress is gone." She played her fingers through his dark tresses, smiling at him with slight ecstasy-hazed eyes. "And I can't believe we just did that."

"Was that your first time in the backseat?" He teased, enjoying the way the red mark he'd just made contrasted against her milky skin. His own secret mark of possession.

"No." She stretched languidly, arching her back against the leather seat. "It was just my first time in the backseat _in broad daylight_."

"I found it rather thrilling." He brushed back a few strands of golden brown hair barring his way to assault her ear and started hungrily nibbling on the shell.

She closed her eyes, giving a sigh of pleasure. "Of course you would, you're a pervert."

He ceased nibbling the shell of her ear and stared down at her. "What ever am I going to do with that damned impudent mouth of yours?" He smiled softly as her cheeks reddened when she saw the lewd glint he allowed to come to his eyes. He propped himself up on forearm, using that hand to grasp a fistful of her hair and wrench her head back. Without any preamble, he possessed her full rosy lips, plunging his tongue into her warm cavern, while his other hand left soft caresses on its descent below her navel. Mercilessly he plundered her delectable mouth, the other hand between her legs deftly working its magic. His heart leapt dramatically, heat pooling in the pit of his belly as all the blood in his body seemed to drain to one spot in his body.

She shuddered uncontrollably and arched into his ministrations, digging her nails into the skin of his shoulders.

Inwardly he smiled when she cried into the kiss, breaking away to look down at her. Damn she was so beautiful when desire hazed those blue-gray eyes like that. She was his. The body reacting so wonderfully to his every touch belonged to him. Despite the fact that she felt like fire in his arms and he wanted so badly to take her again, he knew better (just in case someone saw the car bouncing and decided they wanted to come watch the show like the Coppertons). He caressed and stroked her for a brief while longer until her want was palpable before stopping, grinning to himself when she whimpered longingly. He raised himself upright and withdrew, prompting her to moan yearningly from the sudden absence.

"I hate you." She sulked, a very becoming blush pervading her face.

He buckled his pants and placed his wig on, reaching down to pull her sundress down to conceal her bosoms. "I hate you as well." The dubious expression on her face clued him into to what was really going through her mind. "If I hated you I wouldn't have the desire to have sex with you now would I?"

"Uhm…no?"

He threw the black lacy panties in her face with an indignant air. "I'm thrilled that you're so _immensely _confident in my morale," he stated with mild annoyance. He watched with rapt eyes when she lifted her legs and spread them as she started wriggling into her panties, baring her womanhood with the evidence of their recent exertion still visibly clinging to it. His irritation melted away, leaving only wanton desire. _Dammit, can't you think of anything else Lelouch? _"Hurry it up so we can get out of here."

* * *

Hours later, Lelouch lay on his side elbow bent, head propped up on a hand, watching the woman alongside him sleep. He wished that he had never met her. His life had been simple, mundane even, before she came along. Now, things were complicated. He silently berated himself for being so foolish to think that their "arrangement" would never be anything but empty pleasure.

He didn't know when it happened. Perhaps it was the afternoon he took her on the bathroom floor and found himself chanting her name while in the throes of completion, or the first time he began whispering soft endearments in her ear, or the morning he discovered that he actually enjoyed waking up to her warmth that was the turning point. He didn't know when things had changed between now and three months ago. All he knew was that between then and now their relationship had evolved from a meaningless way to fulfill carnal cravings to something deeper. Somehow or another-over time- they'd connected on an emotional level and that frightened him no matter how adamantly he tried to deny it.

He hadn't planned for this and he usually planned for everything. This was unexpected, he never thought he would gain any affection for a person like her, but maybe that was the reason why he did. Stella dabbled in neither masks nor pretenses; the person she showed on the outside was the real deal. It was a beautiful trait that he sometimes wished he had the bravery to display, but it made her an open book to a manipulative person like him, which made it easy to take advantage. As of yet, he had not availed himself to take advantage of her (okay maybe he had once or twice but only with little things).

Tenderly, he skimmed his fingertips over her eyebrow, down the soft curvature of her jaw, and back up to her left ear. He stared closely at her ear, raising himself up so he could see the dimly glowing eraser-sized device sitting inconspicuously in her ear. It was an ear implant, the consequence of her ex-boyfriend's idea that it would be fun to take a metal rod to her skull. Now, she was deaf in one ear and had to wear that implant (which had to be recharged twice every year).

He sent a dark scowl her way. This was all her fault. She was a villainess, the bane of the darkness that enshrouded him, the temptress that seduced him into the light and he abhorred her for making him feel something other than despair and anguish. He sighed heavily and dropped a kiss on her cheek, allowing his lips to linger briefly. He turned over and cut on the wall-lamp, illuminating the room, before using the remote to turn on the flat screen television secured tightly to the wall facing the bed. The sheets rustled as he sat up and reached for the cordless phone, dialing one of the restaurants' numbers he'd committed to memory. He glanced down when she turned over and those bluish-gray orbs fluttered open.

"Are you ordering takeout because I'm famished." She cuddled close, nuzzling his side with her nose, and looked up at him with a warm smile.

He wanted to push her away and reiterate rather vehemently how much he didn't like cuddling, but the affectionate expression on her face pulled the strings of his heart. With an inaudible resigned sigh, he fondly patted those mussed up brunette locks. "The fact that you are 'famished' comes as no surprise and yes I'm ordering takeout."

"Chinese?" She asked hopefully. He however squashed that hope when he answered.

"Mediterranean." He turned his attention to the phone when someone answered.

"Aladdin's home of Mediterranean cuisine how may I help you?"

"Yes, I would like risotto al a parmigiana, tomato bruschetta, and a small order of zeppoli." He glanced at her expectantly.

"Chicken gyro with dill sauce, spanakorizo, and fanourapita cake," she replied, remembering the menu from Aladdin's by heart (hey it was their favorite restaurant).

He glowered after adding up the total for her order. Where the hell did she put all of that food? He repeated her order into the phone, grimacing at the price. After giving them his address, he hanged up the phone. "Your appetite never ceases to irritate me."

She smiled and climbed out of bed, completely naked before putting on a silk robe. "Why? Because proper ladies only eat rabbit food?"

He followed the graceful sway of her hips momentarily as she sauntered towards the adjoining bathroom before answering. "No because it's a chronic drain on my wallet."

"Then I'll pay for my own food. And anyway if you were going to gripe about it you shouldn't have ordered me anything."

"Nonsense," he said, waving her statement away dismissively.

She leaned on the doorway of the bathroom, trying not to show her slight indignation. "Then if you don't want me asserting my independence in this matter then why are you complaining?"

Shit. Argument approaching. "Stating a fact is not complaining." He smiled slyly. "Besides, a gentleman always takes the tab for his lady."

"Gentleman?" She arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were a devil."

"Only when the time calls for it," he answered smoothly.

She chuckled and disappeared in the bathroom.

He gave a soft smile. Maybe C.C. was right; maybe he could allow himself to have a normal life this time around. He stared wistfully at the television. _C.C._ He missed his green haired accomplice. He wondered if she was okay and what was she doing now. What was he thinking? Of course she was fine, she was an immortal witch. He just hoped she was allowing herself to actually experience life instead of merely existing like a porcelain doll isolated in her own little decorative case. With all his heart, he wished that she was able to really live because, unfortunately, it would seem that he was fulfilling his promise after all. If she was allowing herself to experience and enjoy life, then that meant that they were both living, albeit apart. He clung to the hope that one day he would see her again, and if he didn't then he would hold her in memory until death, just as he would hold his other loved ones in his memory until time claimed him.

He was in such deep wonderment that he didn't even realize Stella was back in the room until he heard a pencil scraping against paper. He raised his violet eyes to the woman sitting on the foot of the bed, leather-bound sketchpad propped up on her knees, drawing him. "I know I'm a work of art, but there is no need to draw me."

She rolled her eyes. "Just be still Captain Ego."

He maintained the cool expression on his face to keep away a smile. Stella was an aspiring artist and a damned good one in his opinion, but-like everything else she did- she doubted her skills. He however recognized her obvious talent. "Rembrandt's Gallery is having a showing for aspiring artists this Friday. Perhaps you could enter one of your paintings." His eyebrows sloped downwards when she firmly wagged her head.

"Nah, I'm not good enough. My painting would probably be the one that stinks up the entire display."

His eyes narrowed. Her insecurities stemmed from the physical and verbal abuse inflicted upon her by her worthless father. "Idiot. Anyone whose painting gets as many praises and offerings as 'Reflections of Titania' is more than ready to have her work shown along with her peers in Rembrandt's Gallery." 'Reflections of Titania' was a portrait she'd painted for him of the fairy queen looking ponderously at her reflection in a shimmering pond that he'd hanged on the wall behind the clerk's desk in the bookstore in which he worked.

Her eyes lifted to his hopefully. "You think so?" She examined his eyes, trying to capture their brilliance on paper.

He nodded. "Yes I do." Her tone was distant, empty as if she were participating in the conversation merely on a subconscious level. "So, where is the mosaic you promised me?"

"In the trunk of the car." She carefully erased something and then redrew it.

"Ah." He reached for the book on the nightstand after several moments of silence.

"Be still," she scolded.

He ignored her and purposely leaned over further to pick up the book, 'V for Vendetta'. "Then hurry it up." He cracked open the book and started reading where he left off.

Moments crawled by and soon… "I'm finished."

"Let me see." He held out a hand.

She shyly handed it to him. "Please tell me what you think and be fruitful if you must." She crawled to his side, examining his face as he inspected her artwork.

He scrutinized the end result, a drawing of him sitting beneath the covers slumped against the headboard, eyes staring straight ahead. It was simplistic and candid, yet intricate. "It is quite lovely."

"Thank you."

"But did you have to draw my bed-head as well?" She'd even captured the longing expression in the depths of his eyes, but he refrained for mentioning that detail.

She grinned evilly. "Yes. I like to draw people in their most candid moments."

He frowned. "I'm guessing that's why you're always sketching me when I first waken from sleep."

"But you're adorable when you're still groggy and haven't changed into your insufferable sourpuss suit yet."

Again he frowned at his partner. "Shut up," he grumbled.

She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the doorbell. "The food's here!" She jumped from his side and hurried out of the room.

Moments later the two sat at the dining table eating their dinner, conversing lightheartedly amidst the classical music playing the background. Lelouch smiled faintly when Stella let out a laugh, reluctantly delighting in the light dancing in her incredible eyes. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen but she was lovely and she was infectious. He cocked an eyebrow when she stared at him inquisitively. Damn, he was caught staring. Again. He averted his eyes and busied himself with daintily biting a chunk of bruschetta bread.

"You were smiling," she stated after swallowing a morsel of her gyro sandwich.

Did she always have to state the obvious? "Since when was it against the law for me to smile?" He snapped defensively. Of course he was aware he'd been smiling, but he just didn't want her to point that fact out.

"No, it's just that seeing the light reach your eyes when you smile is rare. I was just enjoying it is all," she replied softly, feelings stinging from the harshness of his tone.

He inserted a forkful of risotto into his mouth to maintain the cool façade that a smile was threatening to mar. "Well, quietly staring at me like that is quite irritating." He snapped with vain venom. He raised his eyes when she resumed quietly eating, inwardly fighting off a cold realization that at this very moment he was actually… happy.

* * *

Somewhere in the EU

Carline smoothed down her short, golden off-the-shoulder dress and followed her sister and Duke Weinheimer-who was carrying a metal case-into the seedy gentleman's club. She ignored the beautiful and well-dressed women flittering about the opulent establishment on the arm of their choice partners for the night. The dresses were trendy but there was enough damned cleavage on display to open a shop. Even if she had never been in one before she knew that the words 'gentleman's club' was just a euphemism for high-class brothel. She frowned when a giggling woman-who was obviously drunk-, led a richly dressed man up the large staircase. Ugh. No matter how bad things got, she promised herself she would never resort to selling her body to survive.

Weinheimer led them past the card and roulette tables, lounge chairs, tastefully decorated dining tables and to the bar. He stopped and leaned over to the barman that was listlessly cleaning a glass. "I would like to speak with Raephe," he said quietly, slipping the man a couple hundred dollar bills. "My friends and I require his… special services."

The barman, George, nodded craftily a sneaky smile on his face. "Follow me."

Carline glanced warily at her sister remembering the small gun strapped to her pantyhose and the knives concealed in her elbow length gloves. If this bartender tried to lead them to their death he had another thing coming. "I don't like this. It feels like we're being led into the lion's den."

Guinevere bobbed her head in agreement. "Perhaps we are, and if that is the case, be ready." She stared unblinkingly at the Duke's back, wondering if he was truly a reliable ally or like that turncoat Diethard she'd heard so much about. If he betrayed them, she would turn Carline loose on him and would make sure to give her the tools she required.

They sauntered down a series of dark halls and up a flight of stairs before they came to door where the sound of obvious merrymaking was heard. George knocked twice, then three times before opening the door, motioning for them to stay put while he entered.

Weinheimer took the bartender's absence to speak to the two ex-princesses. "My ladies when you get in there please be precise and to the point, he is not too particularly fond of small talk."

Guinevere eyed him suspiciously. "I get the impression that you've done this before," she stated disdainfully.

The tall heavily muscled man stroked his beard and chuckled. "Hardly milady. I've simply had my ear to wind is all."

The door swung open and three women, their hair and outfits still in disarray, strutted out of the room, glaring angrily at the unexpected visitors. The duo of princesses shot each other a sideways glance, but refrained from saying what thought traversed their minds.

George motioned for them to enter.

The three of them- Weinheimer taking up the rear- entered the apartment-sized suite, following George into the lounge area. Moonlight filtered into the room casting shadows through the parlor and upon the shoulders and head of the average-sized man standing before the floor-to-ceiling window with his back turned. He gestured towards a nearby sofa when they entered without turning around.

The three of them sat down simultaneously, shifting into regal postures. "I am Guinevere su--" she was impolitely interrupted by the bartender.

"Names are not needed madam," he said tersely from his place near the moonlit baby grand piano.

Carline narrowed her eyes. How dare that worthless alcohol-serving cur interrupt an imperial in mid-sentence! Five years ago he would have been stripped of his clothes and flogged for such an offense. Unfortunately it was the present and the world, her world, had gone to the dogs.

"I see," she replied calmly. "Then I shall cut straight to the chase. My associates and I require your services and we are willing to pay…" She gestured and Weinheimer opened the case in his lap, revealing several stacks of banded bills. "…_handsomely._"

George scurried forth and took the open case, carrying it to his boss so he could see the money for himself.

"That is only a quarter of what we are willing to pay. Should you choose to take the job you will get the rest upon its completion," she informed him. She drew her back straight and raised herself to her full height to let him know that she was not intimidated and he was not in control of the situation. Of course it was hard not to be intimidated by the immense air of danger surrounding him.

Raephe bobbed his head once.

George closed the case and set it next to his superior's foot. "Raephe requires more information."

Carline rolled her eyes. "What, he couldn't tell us that himself?"

Raephe glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was a fool if she thought he couldn't hear her, or perhaps she was unafraid because of the gun strapped to her thigh and the concealed knives in her gloves. Whatever the reason for her rudeness it did not sit well with him. He turned to gauge them. They had all apparently been part of the nobility and their postures told him they were pompous ingrates, but somehow they were different from his previous clients. They were not to be trusted. Of course it wasn't like he trusted anyone-not even his grandmother. Wait, she was dead.

"Who is the target?" George asked coolly.

Guinevere gestured to Weinheimer who promptly produced a manila folder from his inner pocket and proffered it to the attendant who appeared before him in less than two steps. The slight man of apparent Spanish descent handed it to his master and waited.

"Included is the target's name and photograph. Also the time, date, and location of where the assassination should take place. I'm sure you can find a suitable perch to carry out your objective."

He said nothing, his expression concealed in shadow as he ceaselessly studied the photo in the manila folder.

Carline glowered at him. "You don't have a problem with killing women do you?" She asked derisively. She did not like assassins. They were just glorified murderers, whose skills were better than a mercenary's and but with much less loyalty.

Guinevere glanced at her sister angrily. Did Carline _wanna _die?

A thread of indignation spiraled through the assassin. The girl was treading on paper-thin ice and if she broke through, none of their three guests were going home tonight.

George swallowed but calmed when the deadly assassin closed the folder and nodded. "He accepts the job. When he has completed it he will contact you."

Weinheimer handed him a disposable cell phone. "Contact us through this. Our number is already on speed dial."

George took the cell phone. "I will--" He stopped when his master touched his shoulder. "Meet you all at the door."

They silently filed from the lounge and strode to the door, waiting patiently for their escort. A half moment later he stopped in front of them, a serious expression on his face. His eyes fell upon the former Fifth Princess. "Raephe says that it would be wise of you to remember that assassins do not kill just for money… Sometimes the kill is personal." He kept his doe-brown eyes on Carline as he spoke. "Okay, let's go."

Guinevere glared irately at her sister when they got into the town car. "Next time it would be best if you minded your tongue little sister," she scolded rather harshly.

Carline folded her arms crossly. "Whatever."

Guinevere composed herself. "Next time my sister he may not be so courteous and allow us to leave alive. Please understand I am concerned only for your safety." She gently stroked her sister's rose-pink hair. "We are blood and you mean a lot to me."

Carline nodded. Truthfully Cassius was her blood brother and thus her favorite sibling, but Guinevere was in her top five. "And to the plan."

She settled into the leather seats of the car. "Yes, that as well." She grasped her sister's hand and they rode in silence all the way to the airport.

* * *

Suzaku stepped out of the bathroom, bringing steam and the scents of soap and shampoo into the room with him. He dried his hair and put on a pair of jeans and nice white shirt. Today he was staying home so he could have a little 'me' time. He was overworked and stressed out beyond words. He knew it was time to take a day off when he was short with the Knight of Four for no reason yesterday. Today he was going to lounge around and do nothing. He didn't care who called he was not setting foot out of the front door. He nodded resolutely and went into the kitchen to fix himself a well-balanced breakfast. After breakfast, a session of meditation, and an attempt at _not _mutilating his bonsai tree he settled down to watch television. He was well into an old samurai movie when someone knocked on his door. He grasped the blue baseball cap on the Asian inspired coffee table (which complemented the rest of the Asian décor of the sitting room), quickly pushed back his hair, and placed it on his head. "Who is it?"

No answer.

"Who is it?"

Silence.

He grumbled, pulled his hood on his head, and opened the heavy door. No soul was in sight. "What?" He glanced down and found a yellow envelope lying innocently on his doorstep. Cautiously he stepped outside and scanned the secluded surroundings, peering at the hedges that served as a natural boundary to see if they were at all disturbed. Nothing. He saw no signs of life. With a last suspicious sweep of his surroundings he picked up the envelope and disappeared into his home.

This was not good. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his belly again. He flopped down on the sofa and stared at the envelope in his hands. Had someone discovered Zero's true identity? Was this a bomb that would blow him to smithereens once opened? Or worse, was it some kind of bacteria like anthrax? Well, only one way to find out. He breathed in deeply and opened the envelope, reaching in to bring out a folded piece of paper with the symbol of a black knight chess piece embellished onto the paper. His brow knitted and his stomach flopped. Again. With trembling hands he unfolded the letter and cocked an eyebrow in disconcertedness when he saw the letters written in his native tongue. It read:

_Dear Zero,_

_I shall keep this letter brief and to the point. I know who you truly are and I know that you have discovered a profound secret about your king._

His eyes slightly broadened. Someone knew that he'd discovered the falsity about Lelouch's death.

_I know how doggedly you search._

It was true; he had been searching almost nonstop for Lelouch. Lloyd and Cecile had even been so gracious as to allow him the use of their databases. But each search ended with no results and no leads.

_If you want to end your search use the plane ticket enclosed in this envelope and come to the café Rocco's as soon as disembarking. I look forward too seeing you. _

_Burn after reading._

The Japanese man gripped the letter between trembling fingers, his heart doing flops in his chest. This person-whoever they were- sounded like they knew where Lelouch was. If they knew, then he had to know as well. The rational part of his brain told him that this was most likely an attempt at blackmail, but the part that was only concerned about finding Lelouch did not care, knowing that no matter what price was named he would pay it in order to gain knowledge of his dearest friends whereabouts. He didn't care about paying the price, but if this blackmailer threatened Lelouch's life, they were going to have nightmares about him for years to come.

He burned the letter and got dressed. On the way to the airport he phoned Nunnally and informed her of his unexpected trip. She was okay with it and asked if he would be back by Thursday to accompany her to Oxford and he replied yes.

The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky brilliant hues of orange and pink, its warm rays bathing the white-washed houses of the Grecian city. Suzaku ascended the stairs to the restaurant _Rocco's_. _Rocco's_ was situated on the cliff overlooking the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea. He peeped over the cliff and couldn't help but wonder if this was a safe place to have a restaurant. He stopped at the entrance, inspecting for signs of life, but found it shut tighter than an iron maiden. "Damn."

Maybe he should have taken in some of the sights before he came here. He walked down the stairs and shoved his hands in his pockets in mild frustration, trying to decide if he should stay put or go back to the city. Well, he couldn't exactly just stand here like some idiot all day, at least that's what Lelouch would say to him if he were here. He was so caught up trying to decide if he should stay until it opened for business or leave and risk missing the informant that he didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching.

"I've been waiting for you," a feminine voice said.

* * *

**A.N.: I had to split this chapter in half so I hope this one doesn't end at an awkward moment. If it does, sorry **_***looks over shoulder for any oncoming threats*. **_**So chapter 4 will actually be the other half of Chapter 3. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Read and Review please b/c I feed upon them and they make me big and strong so I have the strength to keep writing! CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcomed by NO FLAMES. Thanx.**

**Bear hugs and puppy dog kisses!**


	4. Fulcrum of Gravity

**A.N. This is the 2nd**** half of chapter three so I hope you enjoy it and I promise to try to keep the plot bunnies from overwhelming my fortress. **_***Sits down in turret in front of a large machine gun, pulls targeting goggles over eyes and silently waits for the countless plot bunnies standing across the gorge to attack.* **_

**Fulcrum of Gravity**

_The shifting balance of conscience, distorted by lies and the illusion of dreams. The conscience that sways to unconscious polarities, drifting like a raft caught in the waves. Distorted imagery, starving for meaning and guidance, trying to balance on the center of gravity. -Center of Gravity by Dr. Kelly (creator of Ohnest Aeb)_

He turned and stared at the owner of the voice, a lovely silver-haired woman wearing a sleeveless dress that fitted at the bodice and flared out at the skirt. Why did she look so familiar? He continued to inspect the beautiful woman, wondering why it felt like he knew her. When he looked into her eyes he felt like smacking himself across the head for being so slow. Those warm golden eyes glinting with mischief were indicative of a woman he knew four years ago. C.C.! "C.--!"

She put her forefinger to her lips in a gesture for him to be quiet. "Follow me."

Suzaku followed her behind the well-built structure on shaky legs. He'd been prepared for someone to blackmail him but he never expected C.C to be the one that wrote the letter. Behind the restaurant was a fine courtyard with flagstone paving and deliberately placed dining tables topped with white tablecloths and chairs perfect for dining alfresco.

"Sit." She gestured towards a table closest to the back door. The table was already furnished with food: a breakfast pizza accented with toppings common to Greek cuisine, and a cup of coffee and milk facing each chair. She eased down elegantly into the chair, crossing her shapely legs.

Suzaku sat down and looked at the pizza, unable to deny a smirk passing over his face. Leave it to C.C. to eat a pizza for breakfast. The two conversed off and on, at times allowing the waves crashing forcefully against the rocky cliff to pierce the silence. He finished his second slice of pizza, taking a sip of his coffee. They caught up on each other's lives and he tried not to glare at her when she compared him rather bluntly to his predecessor. He learned that she was a flight attendant for a few years but settled in Greece and decided to build Rocco's in an attempt to try her hand as an entrepreneur.

"So…" he swallowed the remnants of another slice of pizza and chased it down with a gulp of milk. "About the letter…"

She smiled a cat-ate-the-canary smile and sipped her milk. She produced a sliver of paper from one of her hidden pockets and slid it across the table to him.

He picked it up and opened it, reading the words on it. "What's this?"

"The address to Lulu's house." She thumped the key she set on the table to him.

He looked down at the paper lying against his palm and the key on the table as if they were the key and map to the Holy Grail. "Are you s-- why?"

Her expression turned grave and those warm eyes hardened. "I've been hearing…rumors of sorts and I-- I called you because I'm afraid for him."

"Afraid for him?" He repeated, brows furrowed in bewilderment. Why would she be afraid for Lelouch? Oh god was Lelouch in danger? A sense of fierce protectiveness spiked through him, blurring his other emotions.

"Because if the world he worked so hard to create crumbles…" She schooled her features into their usual indifferent façade and resumed speaking, "…he--. He will need you at his side he will need your strength, and the comfort of your friendship Suzaku. I know I have no right to ask anything of you Suzaku Kururugi for corrupting your dearest friend, but I ask you as the former knight of the ninety-ninth emperor of Britannia. Will you stand by his side while I cannot?"

Suzaku couldn't help but muse that the wise and canny C.C. was asking a stupid question. He didn't even need to be asked such a question, because it was an undoubted, resonant yes. However, he decided not to point at the fact that the question was silly and answered with a firm, "yes." Now that he knew where Lelouch was neither hell nor high water would keep him from his dearest friend. Never would he allow Lelouch to be alone again and if the former prince wavered because this newly reformed world started to crumble Suzaku would keep him stable. This was his silent promise.

* * *

Cassius sat in a chair upon the terrace, sipping his tea and looking out at the evening sun hovering above the horizon of the field of flowers. As usual he was attired in elegant clothing befitting an imperial (well formal imperial.).

"Why are you out here alone brother?" Guinevere asked, leaning against the open French doors.

He swallowed a mouthful of chamomile tea and heaved a weary sigh, dipping a cracker in the spinach dip in the small bowl in the middle of the plate of crackers. "I've grown quite weary of Duchess el Faite and Countess Vanderbilt's incessant bickering and have decided that solitude is better than dining at the table with such shrews," he answered tiredly.

"Aw." She closed the doors and sat in the comfortable wicker chair across from her sibling. "I know you aren't exactly fond of either of them brother." Gently she burrowed her fingers through his raven mane. "But be patient. Out of all of us they were the only ones able to keep most of their fortunes and we need their money to fund our fleet of Knightmares."

He grumbled exasperatedly. "I know, and as sad a fact as it is, I will continue to exercise patience."

She smiled sweetly at her half-sibling. "Thank you dear brother." She withdrew her hand from his hair, allowing her fingers to brush over his jaw line momentarily. Cassius was quite handsome and very desired by a couple of the female members of their fellowship. She'd even caught a few of them trying to sneak peeks at him as he practiced his swordsmanship (which he preferred to do alone and shirtless).

He smirked, azure eyes glittering triumphantly. "I have something to disclose to you."

She leaned back in her chair, dipping a cracker into the spinach dip. "Tell away."

"Odysseus and I were discussing the matter of why our dear brother Schneizel would so blindly follow the man he so ardently sought to vanquish."

"And?" She crossed her long legs, the fabric of her dress whispering as she moved.

"We came to the conclusion that perhaps somehow he is being controlled."

A ridiculing grin touched her lips. "Like what? Mind control?" She giggled as if she had heard a fairly humorous joke. "Dear Cassius that is utterly laughable, no it's preposterous."

Sky blue orbs shrank slightly. It really got under his skin when Guinevere laughed at him. "Lelouch was masquerading as the real Zero when the massacre at the Special Administrative Zone happened."

"So?"

"If he didn't have a special power how would he have driven our kindhearted Euphy to slaughter thousands of innocents?"

Her smug expression faltered. Damn, he had a point.

"And Zero was dubbed the Man of Miracles by the populace of Area Eleven."

"Correct."

He smiled ready to drive his point home. Guinevere wasn't the only one that could be cold and calculating in their small fellowship of scorned nobles. "Then how else would he have performed those so-called _'miracles'…_" He took a sip of tea. "If he didn't have some sort of power that was kept secret from the world. Perhaps that would explain our most esteemed brother Schneizel's uncharacteristic behavior towards Zero now." The corners of his mouth twitched when he saw the ponderous and perplexed countenance she displayed.

"Quite a valid argument my brother. Perhaps we should…" She trailed off and quirked an eyebrow at him when he smiled slyly.

"I hope you don't mind, but I dispatched Satine to Area Eleven while you were away."

Satine was an assassin of one of the most prestigious martial arts academies that had acclimated herself into their inner circle. She was extremely deadly and dedicated to their cause- if only to please Guinevere- and would do anything to please the former First Princess of Britannia. Despite her total disregard for life and mental instability, she was their ace-in-the hole.

"Of course I don't mind brother. My resources are your resources. And since Satine is one of my resources then you are welcome to use her in any way you see fit." Her magenta eyes sparkled wickedly. "But tell me, why would you send her to Area Eleven?"

A malevolent grin played upon his lips. "If anyone is aware that he had some sort of uncanny power it would be his former second-in-command, correct?"

Her eyes broadened with delight. "The new Prime Minister of Area Eleven…"

He smiled, aware that his sister was thinking the same thing he was. "…Kaname Ohgi."

The two siblings shared malicious smirks, interlaced their fingers, rose from their seats, and departed the terrace for the dining room, thoughts consisting of malevolent ideas. They knew that Satine was an artist of the macabre and would spare no punches to get the information she desired. Ahhh, things were coming together rather nicely.

* * *

Suzaku stripped out of Zero garb until he wore nothing but his dark boxers. They'd arrived just as the sun crowned the horizon hoping that the early hour would keep them from encountering the paparazzi. Boy had they been sadly mistaken. The jet had landed quietly and as soon as they set foot onto Oxford pavement they were swarmed with the media. Until they reached the car they were held hostage within a throng of people simultaneously shouting out their questions in a roaring cacophony, numerous microphones and tape recorders shoved relentlessly in their faces, and incessant blinding flashes from their seemingly endless supply of cameras. Hell, Suzaku was still seeing spots.

His entire body was alight with anticipation. He could hardly believe he was going to see his beloved companion again. All types of questions floated through his mind. Had Lelouch gotten taller? Had he put on a little weight? Was he more athletic? He laughed aloud at that thought. Lelouch was _waaay_ too lazy to even attempt anything athletic if he could help it. He rummaged around in his black duffel and found a suitable outfit for the day: a dark blue shirt that reminded him of his days as a Knight of Seven, a pair of grayish jeans, expensive sunglasses, and a matching skullcap. He shoved the keys to Lelouch's home and to his suite into separate pockets, checking his wallet to make sure he had enough cash for a taxi.

He took in a breath, trying to calm his jack-hammering heart, and opened the door, peeking timidly out to make sure the coast was clear. It had been hard to stand the disappointment in his Empress' face when he informed her that he would probably be unable to attend the ball Baroness Cheshire was throwing in her honor. It was even worse knowing he couldn't tell her what that "previous and important engagement" truly was. He hurried down the lavishly decorated hallway, making sure to keep his head down, and ran into the elevator.

He stood in the elevator alone, thinking over his life. He wasn't apt to admit it, but he wasn't torn up in the least about not attending that ball. It wasn't like he really cared for being in the company of those elitist snobs that tended to try schmoozing their way into his good graces in order to gain Nunnally's favor. Yep not going to that lackluster soiree was going to be a big bonus. He walked hurriedly through the extravagant lobby and onto the busy sidewalk, the blinding sunlight deflected by his sunglasses. He hailed a taxi and slid into the leather seat of the yellow cab. Nervous flips went through his stomach, making him fidget more than he already had been.

After all this time he would finally get to see Lelouch in the flesh and touch him and hold him. He could hardly contain his joy, feeling as if this was all some dream and that the Fates that were teasing him would at any moment awaken him to face reality's harsh bite.

* * *

11:38am

The tantalizing aroma of sautéed vegetables and mozzarella cheese permeated the kitchen and wafted into the sitting room. Lelouch grasped the handle of the skillet, giving the colorful array of sautéing vegetable an expert toss to make sure they were all coated with olive oil before lowering the heat to a simmer and sprinkling a dash of cilantro on them. Because of many sessions of lovemaking (and naps in between) they were eating a late breakfast- brunch- and Lelouch was currently the chef of the kitchen. Of course Lelouch didn't mind waking up late since he simply abhorred waking up early (7:30am was was his limit, anything before that he considered ungodly).

He lifted the foiled brick from the couple of Two-Cheese Roasted Turkey Panini and checked the doneness of each before flipping them and replacing the bricks atop them. He scowled immensely to no one in particular. God he was cooking another meal for her, his second to date, and had no earthly idea why. He merely awakened and decided on impulse that he would cook for them. He hated her so much. He'd sworn to himself that he would remain forever in shadow, but she was dragging him- kicking and screaming- into the world of the living. _Damn you. _He breathed in a whiff of the delicious aroma and glanced up when the glass doors of the terrace slid open and closed. "Done already?"

She nodded, craning her neck over her newly finished painting so her face was visible. She stopped in front of a vacant space on his wall, used the stoop, and hung the painting (an exquisitely painted scene of boats floating upon the serene harbor waters) on the correctly spaced nails hammered into the wall.

"If you continue to hang your paintings on my wall…" He checked the sautéing vegetables. "…how do plan on selling any?"

She swiped a hand over her neat ponytail, lovingly brushing the painting off with a hand. "Well, if you ever have anyone over _other _than me, you can tell them all your pieces are original." Without looking she stepped off the stoop and surveyed her work with a critical eye.

He smirked softly and strode to her, a spoonful of sautéed vegetables in a hand. He blew on the steaming morsels a bit before shoving them into her mouth. "Well?"

She chewed slowly, savoring the medley of tastes teasing her palate. "Delicious." She licked her lips for any leftover taste. "I thought you said you were fixing mushroom sauté."

He shrugged his slender shoulders casually. "You're allergic to them and if you die from anaphylactic shock then I'd have to go through the trouble of finding another decent screw buddy. It would be a most bothersome hassle," he replied offhandedly, brushing a hand through his inky mane. A small smirk crossed his mouth, violet eyes twinkling with evil. _And the patented eye roll. _He couldn't help it if he enjoyed irking her nerves. Hey, it wasn't his fault all her buttons were always glowing red with the words 'PUSH ME'.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm so happy to know you would be so broken up about my death."

His eyes glittered impishly while his face maintained its usual composure. "Honestly, there could be tears," he joked.

She laughed softly. "Yeah right."

His eyes narrowed to slits and he grasped her chin roughly, tilting her chin up to capture her perfectly sculpted lips. Hungrily he teased her bottom lip, plunging his tongue between the sweet lips that all too readily parted to allow him access. Tongues danced, hands roamed to impart sweet caresses, and bodies moved in an effort to be nearer to the other as they were swept up into the whirlwind of passion. One of his hands stopped to splay itself over one rounded buttock and squeezed firmly, causing her to give a throaty moan into the kiss.

They parted from the passionately kiss, Lelouch trying to enjoy the cute blush painting her cheeks instead of what words had not too long escaped her lips. He released her and turned towards the kitchen, not even breaking stride when she gave a soft apology. "Just set the patio furniture," he replied dispassionately. He glared when she hurriedly took down the breakfast dishes and headed out of the ceiling-high, sliding glass doors, and started meticulously setting the table. It sounded psychotic, but he'd actually entertained homicidal ideas about her. He'd thought about smothering her while she slept, poisoning her coffee, and even drowning her in the harbor. But when she looked up at him shyly and smiled that goddamned smile that tended to leave him (dare he say it) helpless and everything always melted away. He knew he could never harm her and that amazed and angered him at the same time, because it was a testimony to the treachery of his heart.

* * *

Suzaku's heart sped up with every step he took towards the door of -which judging by the address written on the paper- Lelouch's seaside condo. By the time he got to the door his heart had jumped into his throat and was doing triple time. Calm down Suzaku. He forced himself to take in relaxing breaths in… and out… in… and out. Despite this breathing exercise his heart still seemed like it was trying to hammer itself right out of his chest. What if Lelouch wasn't alive? What if he'd gotten killed in some freak accident just before he got here? His hands dropped limply to his sides. If Lelouch had drawn his last breath only after he'd located him, he would truly be crushed beyond repair. He clenched his jaw determinedly and rapped on the door.

The couple dining on the terrace were deaf to the persistent knocking on the door, their ear being filled with the cry of seagulls and other sounds of the harbor.

He waited impatiently before knocking a few more times with no results. He fingered the key in his pocket debating whether he should just let himself in. _What's wrong with you, you can't just barge in a house that's not yours, _a voice scolded. It's not like it was breaking and entering because he had a key. But still, it felt wrong. Although, it _was_ better than standing out here like an indecisive moron. Maybe he shouldn't. It's not like he hadn't knocked, it was just that no one answered. So, the only logical course of action was to use the key and go in unannounced. _Just do it you idiot._ He gulped down a nervous breath and inserted the key into the hole, turning it slowly. He opened the door gradually, peeking timorously into the home. Steeling his nerves he entered the condo, closing the door behind himself. The family room was very tidy (even the kitchen which appeared to have been recently used) and decorated with deep rich colors. In the corner he noticed a chess set whose individual pieces were already positioned in battle formation, as if a match might be played at any given moment. A wide grin spread across his mouth. Yep, this was Lelouch's house alright._ I finally found you._

His attention was turned to the sliding doors when it opened and a couple entered the room. He didn't hear the comment made by the woman because he couldn't tear his eyes from those unmistakable violet orbs staring at him in astonishment. Oh god, it was him. Lelouch was alive! An immense joy fired through him filling his soul with such a light that he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. When he finally found his tongue he was able to utter in a small, trembling voice: "L-Lelouch?"

Spire of both overwhelming shock and delighted surprise spiked through his being. He'd found him. Suzaku had actually found him and he was standing right here in his home. _I suppose sheer single-mindedness has to trump intellect sometimes, _he mused fleetingly. He wanted to run to his cherished friend, fall into his arms, and soak up every ounce of familiarity and warmth Suzaku carried within his soul, but his legs refused to move. So, there he stood, an uncharacteristic expression of surprise on his face, knees buckling, heart drumming wildly in his chest. God he couldn't faint like a sissy now. Tears pricked his eyes relentlessly, but he composed himself before he spoke. "Su-Suzaku?"

Suzaku discarded the sunglasses and cap in one movement, chestnut locks spilling forth. Before the raven-haired man could react, he'd closed the gap between them and embraced him in a firm hug. He kissed Lelouch's forehead, his pale cheeks, his eyebrows and corners of his sculpted mouth. His dearest friend- whose supposed death at his hands still haunted his nightmares- was in his arms, quivering, breathing, and alive. Tears stung his emerald eyes and spilled forth, leaking down his cheeks.

He lowered himself, snuggling his head over Lelouch's heart. It was beating. Lelouch's heart was drumming in his chest, proof that this was not a dream. He was not tucked away in his bed right now, lost in dreamland. It was real and he was overwhelmed and beside himself with pure elation.

Lelouch tightened his hold on Suzaku, sliding his fingers through those beautiful brunette locks. Suzaku had found him. After four years of feeling alone without a single friend, his dearest companion had located him. _Don't- please don't let this be a dream,_ he prayed silently. If this was a dream he would surely go insane upon awakening. His violet gaze fell to the chestnut locks lying just over his heart. _Suzaku._ He squeezed him tightly, weaving slender fingers through silky chestnut tresses.

Figuring it was time to beat a hasty retreat and allow the two newly reunited companions to get reacquainted, Stella picked up her purse, and threw a wink over her shoulder at Lelouch- who reciprocated with a knowing twinkle in his eye- before leaving.

Lelouch returned his attention to Suzaku. "How did you find me?"

"I talked to C2 and she gave me your address and door key," he responded, hoping that Lelouch didn't get irritated.

That was no surprise. "Ah… how is she?"

"She's well. She owns a bistro in Greece."

He shook his head, grinning softly. "Willful woman."

Suzaku nodded, burying his nose in the thinner boy's neck, drinking in his distinct odor.

"Why did you come here?"

Suzaku looked up timidly, expecting to see a scowl on his friend's face, but found only softness in wavering violet eyes. "I needed to see you alive Lelouch. I- I needed…" He faltered, the lump in his throat choking him, and ghosted his fingertips over the raven-haired man's pale cheek.

They stood there for a few moments more, holding each other and basking in the glow of their sweet reunion. Parts of Lelouch nagged at him to release the other male clinging to him, but instead he only drew him closer. "You know you risked exposing yourself coming here."

Suzaku stared at him, a fiercely resolute expression permeating his emerald depths. "I don't care!" He locked their gazes. "I had nightmares about murdering you for four years Lelouch. After learning you were alive I was desperate to see you and when I got the chance, nothing else mattered. So if coming here risks exposure of Zero's true identity, then so be it, because I haven't been happier in all these four years than I am now." He confessed honestly, blinking back the joyous tears cornering his viridian eyes.

Lelouch felt his heart clench in his chest at the Japanese boy's sincere words. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat refused to budge. "Idiot," he said with a hint of playfulness.

Suzaku smiled and that smile turned into a giggle which changed into an infectious full blown laugh that Lelouch soon joined him in until they were both gasping for air.

* * *

Night enshrouded the land, casting shadows upon the beachside estate of the Prime Minister. Armed guards roamed the premises, alert and ready to subdue or shoot any intruder on sight. Despite their diligent vigil they were unaware of the stealthy intruder slinking through the shadows.

Satine landed upon a high reaching branch of a tree. With feline agility she gracefully balanced her way to the window neighboring the tree, peeking in expectantly. Her keen eyes picked up the kiddy décor of the room. She smiled gleefully. _Looks like I've found the little tyke's room. _

"Hey you! In the tree-- aack!"

Before the security guard could finish his sentence Satine had hurled a pair of kunai into his throat. She dropped silently from the tree, landing in front of the man gagging on the small daggers, and dragged him to the shady side of the tree. She bent and cruelly yanked the kunai from his throat, running a hand through her loose dark hair, and licked his blood from the tips of the weapons. A shudder rippled through her when she caught sight of the blood gurgling from the two puncture wounds. "Mmmm…" She squatted in front of him, sliding a red-gloved hand over his bald head.

"As much as I'd love to watch you bleed to death, I mustn't give into my temptation. So sadly…" In a single deft movement she drew her tanto and plunged it into his chest, impaling his heart. She groaned quietly, when his body spasmed in surprise, eyes rolling in almost orgasmic pleasure when he breathed his last. She returned to the tree and after a few moments stole soundlessly into the room.

_Oh my god. _She groaned inwardly once she was inside the child's room. There were Hello Kitty plush toys, baby dolls, and bunny rabbit and kitten posters all over the room-even the chandelier was pink and froufrou. Ugh, the pink and lace were an offense against her very nature. She wanted to tear down each and every eyesore within in the room, but that would wake the child. And, presently, waking the child was a no-no.

Kyoko Morimoto sat in the posh family room avidly reading a romance novel. She had been babysitting for Mr. and Mrs. Ohgi for six months now and was utterly thrilled. The Prime Minister had done so much for Japan through peaceful negotiations instead of by force like four years ago. She admired him extensively for his mild yet resolute character and his wife for her many program foundations that she'd founded to reeducate Britannian and Japanese children about each other in hopes to stave off some of the prejudice ingrained in them. They were both inspirations to her, and she wanted to grow up to be just like them. Oh and she almost forgot about little Sachiko. The kid was a beaming light to everyone around her.

"Are you the babysitter?"

Kyoko turned quickly on the comfy cream-colored sofa, hazel eyes staring at the leather clad woman standing in the arch inquiringly. "Who-who are you?" She said warily, standing quickly. If this woman was a threat, all she had to do was press a button and the guards would be here in no time.

She didn't answer instead she flicked a kunai from its concealed location and threw the weapon. The kunai flew straight and true and buried itself in the girl's shoulder. In blinding movement she was behind the teenager, clamping a hand over her mouth before she could scream, while pushing the kunai deeper, severing muscle and important tissue. "Shhh sweetheart, or you'll wake the little girl."

* * *

Ohgi and Viletta strode towards the door of their home. Both were attired in evening wear and both wore relaxed smiles that attested to their delightful night out. Ohgi watched his wife with happy eyes as she hummed the tune to the opera they saw earlier tonight. "I take it you enjoyed the opera."

She smiled, her robin's egg blue hair flowing past her thin shoulders in ripples. "I did." She squeezed his arm, enjoying the feel of the muscles beneath the material of his suit jacket. When was the last time they'd made love? Two- three days ago? She looked up at her handsome husband and bit her bottom lip; she was overdue for a lotta loving. She smiled lustfully up at him, taking her place in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Viletta?" He smirked lightly, brown orbs greedily feasting on the way the yard light highlighted her copper skin. God she was gorgeous with that delicious body and full lips. Raw want and need pierced him, and he found himself trying to vainly wet his dry mouth.

She clasped her hands behind his neck, drawing closer to him so that their bodies touched, and stood on her tiptoes. "I love you so much Ohgi," she breathed, her lips nearing his.

He bent his head, his mouth inches from hers. "I love you too." They shared an impassioned kiss before drawing away, both panting softly. He nuzzled her hair, sniffing in the scent of her flowery shampoo.

She looked up at him with seductive eyes. "How about after we send Kyoko home…" She walked her fingers up his chest teasingly. "And kiss Sa-chan goodnight I slip into that little black negligee you adore so much and we make up for three days of abstinence?"

He squashed the goofy grin that threatened to grace his mouth and managed a smooth one instead. "How about you go get ready and I meet you upstairs."

She grinned hungrily, hardly able to wait to see her husband naked, and sashayed to the door, opening it hastily. She stopped and stared down in horror at the spectacle in the family room. In the middle of the floor with her harms and legs nailed spread-eagle to the floor by four wicked looking kunai and her mouth taped over was Kyoko.

Ohgi's- who had entered behind his wife- eyes expanded in terror. His eyes rose to the woman standing over their babysitter, who was obviously in agony, and flared in anger. Instinctively he stepped in front of his wife protectively, glaring in hatred at the woman. "What--!"

She put a finger to her mouth. "Shhhh. Hush dear prime minister or you will wake your little princess," she said dementedly, taking a seat next to the still slumbering four-year old child. She quickly but gently laid the child's head in her lap, baring her throat to the tanto that seemed to appear in her hand out of nowhere.

Viletta felt her heart stop dead in her chest when she saw the blade hover of her beloved offspring's delicate throat. "Ohmigod, Ohgi," was all she was able to say, her voice choked with fear. Who was this woman? What did she want with them? Did she want money?

Ohgi gnashed his teeth wishing he had all the speed and skill of the world's greatest ninja so he could end the life of this assassin that had the audacity to enter their home and threaten the life of their child. But he knew there was nothing he could do, they were at her mercy. "What do you want?" He growled. Where the hell were the guards?

She crossed her long legs nonchalantly as if holding a knife to a child's neck was a common everyday occurence. "Sit down."

Neither hesitated and obediently took a seat on the loveseat. They both scowled at her with murder in their eyes. Their gazes shifted to the tanto she held prone in one hand while the other gently stroked their daughter's raven-locks almost in a maternal fashion. "Do you want money? Because we can give it to you, we are willing to pay anything," Viletta stated desperately.

A sneer crowned the woman's lip. "Your money is of no importance to me," she snapped venomously.

"Then what do you want?" Ohgi asked, keeping his voice calm. If she didn't want money, then she wanted something more, something that would come at a high price. But there was nothing in this world that was worth more than his family's safety.

She leaned into the couch. "I want you to show me how much you love your little bundle of joy here by giving me information about Zero," she demanded calmly keeping a fierce gaze upon the fretting parents.

Instantaneously, both knew she was not referring to the Zero that sought justice throughout the globe but to Lelouch vi Britannia, the Demon Emperor. A small twinge of fear wormed its way through their bodies, because they knew what subject she sought information about: Geass.

* * *

8:30pm (Oxford Time Zone)

San Marc Hall

San Marc Hall was a towering skyscraper that sat at the center of the political district of Oxford. The ballroom was lavish with sweeping arches, two-story windows flanked by deep silk red curtains, magnificent gold chandeliers, stainless marble floors, and exquisite artwork carved into the walls. The attendees of the ball complimented their surroundings perfectly in their expensive and glittering garb. Baroness Elizabeth Cheshire-who was busy mingling with her guests-, was a plump woman with ample breasts and hips that she dared to showcase in her elegant, but tightly fitting, gown. She turned when the door opened and all guests bowed to their Empress.

Nunnally smiled amiably at her subjects, glancing to her left at her Knight of Two, Gino Weinberg. It was not like having Suzaku near to be her support, but she still felt content all the same. "Thank you for coming on such short notice Gino, I know you were supposed to be practicing your sky acrobatics right now." She pressed the button on the armrest of her extravagant wheelchair and wheeled further into the arm, Gino and Cornelia striding dutifully at her side.

He gave one of his dazzling smiles to his queen. "No thanks is necessary, My Empress, it is my pleasure to be at your side," he said humbly, giving a deep bow that he couldn't help but accent with a playful wink.

She smiled fondly, turning her head to Cornelia to hide her blush. "Something wrong sister?" She asked when she saw the pinched expression gracing her graceful features. She knew Cornelia did not want to be here (getting her to put on an evening gown had almost proved to be a deadly experience.). _Thank god for Guilford._

Cornelia calmed her features. "No my dear. Now, gird yourself, here comes the Baroness," she whispered.

Nunnally fought back a grin and merely gave a smile of recognition as the robust woman greeted her.

"Your Majesty, I am so happy that you were able to make it!" She bowed low and kissed the delicate hand Nunnally offered.

"As I am happy to be here," she replied graciously.

"Forgive me if I overstep my boundaries Majesty, but is the Second Prince going to attend tonight?" God she hoped Schneizel with his disarming smile, charming persona, and godlike beauty would attend so she could ogle him.

Cornelia kept back a snort. Oh god not another Schneizel groupie. The young women that pursued him like female dogs in heat were bad enough, but my god didn't the baroness have the dignity to understand that she was too old for such schoolgirl crushes.

"I'm afraid not. As Prime Minister of Britannia my dear brother has many obligations and sadly they hindered him from being here tonight," Nunnally answered with a comforting edge to her voice.

"Oh well another time then."

They engaged in light small talk with the middle-aged baroness. Cornelia couldn't help but feel pity when she noticed the predatory glances the other woman kept sending towards the willowy blonde knight. The Baroness followed them around the room as they greeted and were greeted by the other nobles in the ballroom.

* * *

The Darby construction site was empty and deserted. The only thing inhabiting its five hundred square feet was the connecting beams that served as the frame of what would soon be the Darby Tower. Construction machines sat unmoving in their spots, their odd shapes and colossal sizes making them appear ominous against the darkened night sky. Standing in the cabin at the top of the soaring Tower Crane smoking a sweet-smelling cigarette was Raephe. He smiled as he surveyed his surroundings. After going to the top of the San Marc Hall he'd found that this spot was ideal for a flawless shot. _Perfect_. He put out the cigarette and dropped to the metal flooring carefully (no need to disturb his already precarious perch) and unzipped his duffle bag. With the sensuous movements of a man caressing his lover, he assembled his high-powered sniper rifle. Nadia, the rifle, was of his own design and one of kind, named after his first love. She was smaller and lighter than most sniper rifles of her caliber, but she could still shoot circles around them. He stroked the sleek, black barrel gently and opened the window, crouching onto bended knee (ignoring the small space) with his gun in sniping position.

He closed his eyes momentarily, tuning out the sounds of the city, and concentrated on a lightly babbling brook, the ocean on a summer day, allowing the stillness of the moment to wash over his soul like balm to a wound. He removed the cap and took a preliminary look through his scope, adjusting the magnification until it was clear. Through the scope's lens he could see clearly into San Marc's ballroom as if he were right outside the window instead of nearly two kilometers away. Ahhh. There she was…the Empress.

He inspected Nunnally through the scope, taking note of the rare jewels adorning her neck and ears which complimented the ethereal gown that was her attire for the night and her sapphire eyes. _Not bad at all_. He could appreciate beauty when he saw it, disabled or not. To him she looked so frail that it seemed absurd that she was such a threat to those whiny nobles that frequented his favorite gentleman's club. He shook his head. Ah well, this was business. He let out a calming breath, adrenaline pumping lightning into every synapse in his body as he prepared for the shot. This was going to be beautiful, watching her blood splatter when the bullet blew a crater through her skull and she collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Lovingly he caressed Nadia's barrel, giving his lips a predatory lick. Then without further ado, he aimed and pulled the trigger, the silencer attached to the muzzle of the gun quieting the shot to a mere _Pip._ The bullet sped through the air on its deadly trajectory towards its intended target, breaking through the window pane and the stems of wineglasses before claiming its victim. Blood sprayed forth, spattering crimson onto the expensive clothing of some of the guests, and hysteric screams erupted into the ballroom.

* * *

**A.N.: There you have it, the fourth chapter that was really supposed to be the third chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Yay! I can't wait to start the next chapter because one of my top six favorite characters makes an appearance. Oh and sorry for the cliffie-**_**bats eyes in a feigned apology- **_**but it seemed like a good place to end. Anyhow, R&R because they make me happy! Thanx.**

**Next Chapter: Suzaku-Lelouch pillow talk. The return of Orange (yay!). Gefjun Distributors. A sinister plot. All of this in Razor's Edge.**

**TTFN!**


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